He raised Jed's clothes from the chair on which he had thrown them and went through the pockets expeditiously. Poor Jed's small stock of money was quickly transferred to his own pockets.
"He hasn't any watch," soliloquized Graham. "That's a pity."
When his search was completed he put on his hat again.
"I shall sleep in Jersey City to-night," he said to himself. "That will be safer."
He went out softly, leaving Jed alone, the victim of a cruel trick.
CHAPTER XXIV. A STARTLING DISCOVERY.
Jed slept on, unconscious of his loss, till the sun flooded the room with golden light. Then he opened his eyes and wondered for a moment where he was. But recollection came to his aid, and he recalled the incidents of his meeting with Graham and sharing the latter's room.
He looked over to the other side of the bed, but his roommate was not to be seen.
"I suppose it is late and he has gone to his business," thought Jed tranquilly. "Probably he didn't want to wake me up."
This explanation seemed natural enough till he noticed that the pillow on the right-hand side of the bed did not seem to have been used. Lifting the quilt, he discovered that the sheet was smooth. Clearly Graham had not slept there at all.
"What does it mean?" thought Jed, perplexed. "Why didn't he come back last evening?"
This was a question which he could not answer. No suspicion, however, had yet dawned upon him that anything was wrong.
"Well," he said, jumping out of bed, "I must get up and try for a place. I guess I can find that eating-house where we took supper. Let me see, what was the name? Oh, Smith & Green. Well, I feel as if I could dispose of a good breakfast."
He washed his face and hands and proceeded to dress. Mechanically, but not from any feeling of uneasiness, he thrust his hand into his pocket in search of his wallet. The pocket was empty!
His heart gave a jump, and he hurriedly examined his other pockets, but it was of no avail. Then he looked about the room and on the floor, but there was no trace of the lost wallet.
Jed felt faint, and his legs trembled under him, as he thought of the terrible situation in which he was placed. He began to connect Graham's absence with his loss, and understood that his new acquaintance had played him false.
It was a shock to him, for his nature was trustful, and he hated to believe that a young man who had seemed so friendly should prove so treacherous.
"What shall I do?" thought poor Jed. "I haven't enough money for my breakfast, and I am very hungry."
At this point, just as he was ready to go out, there came a knock at the door.
Jed rose and opened it. He confronted a stout woman of middle age with a very serious expression of countenance that seemed to indicate that she meant business. She regarded Jed with surprise.
"I expected to see Mr. Graham," she said. "Are you a friend of his?"
"I only met him yesterday. He invited me to come and spend the night in his room."
"Is he here, or has he gone out?"
"I don't think he slept here at all last night. He left early in the evening, and said he would come back, but the bed doesn't seem to have been slept in except by myself."
"He is very liberal in offering the use of a room that he has not paid for," said the lady sarcastically.
"I don't know anything about that," faltered Jed.
"No, I suppose not. But it's true. He only came here two weeks and a half ago, and paid one week's rent in advance—four dollars. When the next week's rent became due he said that his employer was on a visit to Chicago, and he could not get his pay till he came back. Do you know whether that is true?"
"No, I don't. I never saw him before yesterday afternoon about four o'clock in a park about half a mile from here."
"So he wasn't at work at that time?"
"No; he said he worked for a broker and got through at three o'clock."
"A broker? Why he told me he was working in a wholesale house down town. At any rate, I wish he'd pay me the eight dollars he owes me."
"I wish he'd pay me the thirty-five dollars he owes me," said Jed despondently.
"You don't mean to say that you were goose enough to lend him thirty-five dollars?" exclaimed Mrs. Gately in a crescendo voice.
"No; I didn't lend it to him," returned Jed bitterly. "He must have taken it out of my pocket when I was asleep."
"Well, I declare! So he's a thief, too."
She looked around the room, and opening a bureau examined the drawers.
"He's gone off and taken all of his things," she reported. "That settles it. We shall not see our money again."
"I—I don't know what to do," said Jed sorrowfully.
"Did he take all your money?" asked Mrs. Gately, drawn from a consideration of her own misfortune to that of her fellow-sufferer.
"Yes, he took every cent," answered Jed mournfully. "And the worst of it is that I am a stranger in New York."
"Well, that is too bad!" said the landlady, an expression of sympathy relieving the severity of her face. "Your case is worse than mine. You actually haven't anything left?"
"Except my gripsack."
"And of course you haven't had any breakfast?"
"No, ma'am."
"Well, I do pity you. I suppose you are hungry?"
"I don't know when I have ever felt so hungry," answered Jed.
"I will see that you don't leave the house in that condition at any rate. I'm a poor woman, as any one must be who has to depend on lodgers for an income, but I'm not penniless. Come down stairs, Mr.—Mr.—"
"Gilman," suggested Jed.
"And I will skirmish round and scare you up something to eat."
"You are very kind," said Jed gratefully.
"Wait and see what you get," returned Mrs. Gately with a laugh and a softer expression, for Jed's case appealed to her heart.
She led the way to the front basement. A table was set in the centre of the room. Evidently it had not yet been cleared off.
"I'm a little behindhand this morning," remarked Mrs. Gately, beginning to bustle round. "I don't take boarders in a general way, but I have a young girl in the house that works at Macy's. I suppose you've heard of Macy's?"
"No, ma'am."
"Never heard of Macy's? I thought everybody had heard of Macy's, Fo'teenth Street and Sixth Avenue. Luella Dickinson works there, and I give her breakfast in the house as a favor. Let me see, there's a little coffee left—I'll warm it over—and there's bread and butter, and—I can cook you a sausage, and boil a couple of eggs."
"I hope you won't take too much trouble," said Jed.
"I guess I can afford to take a little trouble, especially as there's no knowing when you will have any dinner."
Jed owned to himself with a sigh that there was a good deal of doubt on that point. However, it isn't wise to borrow trouble too far in advance, and the odor of the sausage as it was frying was very grateful to his nostrils. He was sure of one meal at any rate, and that was something, though the day before he thought he had enough money to last a month.
"I don't think the coffee will do," said Mrs. Gately, as she bustled round the stove in the next room. "I'll make some fresh. I don't think coffee amounts to much when it is warmed over."
Jed was of the same opinion, and did not utter a protest. He was very fond of coffee, and felt that with a fresh pot of it the breakfast would be fit for a king.
"Haven't you got any folks, Mr. Gilman?" asked the landlady, as she brought the pot of coffee and sat it on the table.
"No, ma'am," answered Jed. "I am alone in the world."
"Dear me, that's sad! And so young as you are, too!"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm only sixteen."
"What did you calc'late to do, if you could get a chance?"
"Anything. I'm not particular."
"You haven't any trade, have you?"
"No. I've been living in the country most of the time, and did chores on a farm."
"Well, we haven't many farms in New York," said the landlady with a laugh.
"No. I suppose not. Even if there were, I don't like that kind of work."
"Have you never done anything else?"
"I acted for a few weeks."
"Gracious! You don't mean to say you've been a play actor?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"How Luella Dickinson would like to see you! She dotes on play actors, but I don't think she ever met one."
"I am afraid she would be disappointed in me.
"Oh, I guess not. If you've played on the stage that's enough. Why can't you call round some evening? Luella would so like to see you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Gately. If I can get anything to do, I will call."
Jed finished his breakfast. He ate heartily, for he had no idea where he should get another meal.
"I guess I'll be going," he said, as he rose from the table. "You have been very kind."
"Oh, that's nothing. I hope you'll meet that rascally Graham and make him give up your money."
"I am afraid there is little hope of that. Good morning, and thank you!"
And so Jed passed out of the hospitable house into the inhospitable street, without a cent of money or a prospect of earning any.
CHAPTER XXV. WITHOUT A PENNY.
There is nothing that makes one feel so helpless as to be without a penny in a strange city. If Jed had had even a dollar he would have felt better.
The fact of his poverty was emphasized when a boy came up to him and asked him to buy a morning paper. Jed instinctively felt in his pocket for a penny, but not even a cent was forthcoming.
"I have no change," he said, by way of excuse.
"I can change a dollar," responded the newsboy, who was more than usually enterprising.
"I wish I could," thought Jed, but he only said, "No, it is no matter."
So he walked along Broadway, fairly well dressed, but, so far as money went, a pauper. Yes, though no longer an inmate of the Scranton poorhouse, he was even poorer than when he was there, for then he had a home, and now he had none.
"I wonder when it is all going to end?" reflected poor Jed despondently. Then his anger was excited when he thought of the unprincipled rascal who had brought him to this pass.
"If I could only get hold of him," muttered Jed vengefully, "I would give him something to remember me by."
All the while Jed walked on, though his walk was aimless. He was as well off in one part of the city as another, and only walked to fill up time.
He found himself passing a drug store. Just outside the door he saw the sign "Boy wanted," and with a little kindling of hope he entered the store.
Just behind the counter stood a man with a sandy beard, who appeared to be the proprietor. To him Jed addressed himself.
"I see you want a boy," he said.
"Yes; do you want a place?"
"Yes, sir."
"I hardly think you would be satisfied with the wages we pay, unless you particularly wish to learn our business."
"What do you pay, sir?"
"Three dollars a week."
Three dollars a week! It was certainly better than no income at all, but Jed knew well that it would be impossible to live on this sum, and he had no reserve fund to draw upon.
"No," he said, "I am afraid I couldn't get along on that salary."
"Are you entirely dependent on your earnings?" asked the druggist.
"Yes, sir."
"Have you parents residing in the city?"
"No, sir; I am all alone."
"That would be an objection. We prefer to employ those who live at home."
"Do most employers require that, sir?"
"Many do."
Here a customer came in and asked for a bottle of cough medicine, and the druggist turned away to fill the order. Jed walked slowly out of the store.
"I wonder whether there is any work for me anywhere?" he asked himself despondently.
Jed continued his walk down Broadway. It was a bright, clear, exhilarating day, and Jed would have enjoyed it thoroughly if he had been better fixed, but it is hard to keep up the spirits when your pocket is empty.
When Jed reached City Hall Park he went in and sat down on one of the benches.
One of the boy bootblacks who carry on business in the park came up to him with his box on his shoulder and asked, "Shine your boots?"
Jed shook his head.
"Not this morning," he replied.
"They need it," said the boy.
Jed looked at his boots, and was fain to admit that the boy was right. But he was not possessed of the necessary nickel.
"Yes, they do need it," he said, "but I haven't money enough to pay you for doing it."
"Only five cents."
"I haven't five cents. I'm poorer than you are, my boy," said Jed in a burst of confidence.
The boy looked puzzled.
"You don't look like it," he said after scrutinizing Jed's appearance. "How did you come to be so poor?"
"Had all my money stolen last night."
"How much was there?"
"Thirty-five dollars."
"Whew!" whistled the bootblack. "That was a haul. Who did it?"
"A young man I fell in with. He invited me to share his room. I woke this morning to find that he had stolen all my money."
"He was a snide, he was! I'd like to step on his necktie."
"I'd like to do something of that sort myself," said Jed with a smile.
"Would you know him if you saw him again?"
"Yes; I shan't forget him very soon."
"When you do see him hand him over to a cop. Just hold out your foot," and the boy got down in a position to black Jed's shoe.
"But I haven't any money. I can't pay you."
"I'll do it for nothin', seein' as you're down on your luck. You can pay me some time when times is better."
"I am afraid you will have to wait a good while for your money."
"Never mind! It won't kill me if I lose it."
"You're very kind to a stranger," said Jed, grateful for the boy's friendly proffer.
"Oh, it ain't nothin'. You look like a good fellow. You'll get a place quicker if your shoes look nice."
There was something practical in this suggestion, and Jed accepted the offer without further hesitation.
The boy exerted himself specially, and Jed's dirty shoes soon showed a dazzling polish.
"There, you can see your face in 'em!" exclaimed the boy, as he rose from his knees.
"Thank you," said Jed. "I see you understand your business. Will you tell me your name?"
"Jim Parker."
"Well, Jim, I am much obliged to you. I hope some time I can do you a favor."
"Oh, that's all right. So long! I hope you'll get a job." And the independent young bootblack, with his box over his shoulder, walked across the park in search of another job.
Somehow Jed was cheered by this act of kindness. He felt a little better satisfied with himself, moreover, when he saw the transformation of his dirty shoes to the polish that marks the gentleman.
A man rather shabbily dressed was drawn by this outward sign of affluence to sit down beside him. He took a brief inventory of Jed, and then doffing his hat, said deferentially, "Young gentleman, I hope you will excuse the liberty I am taking, but I have walked all the way from Buffalo, and am reduced almost to my last penny. In fact this nickel," producing one from his pocket, "is all the money I have left. If you will kindly loan me a quarter I shall esteem it a great favor."
Jed felt like laughing. He had not a penny, yet here was a man richer than himself asking for a loan.
"I wish I were able to oblige you," he said, "but you are asking me for more than I possess."
The man glanced incredulously at Jed's polished shoes.
"You don't look poor," he said, in a tone of sarcasm.
"No, I don't look poor, but you are five cents richer than I."
The man shrugged his shoulders. He evidently did not believe Jed.
"It is quite true," continued Jed, answering the doubt on the man's face. "Last night I was robbed of all the money I had. Had you applied to me yesterday I would have granted your request."
This frank statement disarmed the man's suspicion.
"I think your are speaking the truth," he said. "Though there are plenty who pretend to be poor to get rid of giving. Perhaps I shall surprise you when I say that a year ago I should have been able to lend you five thousand dollars, and have as much more left."
"Yes, you do surprise me! How did you lose your money?"
"I was a fool—that explains it. I bought mining stocks. I was in San Francisco at the time, and my money melted like snow in the sun. A year since I was worth ten thousand dollars. To-day I am worth a nickel. Do you know what I will do with it?"
Jed looked at him inquiringly.
"I will buy a glass of beer, and drink to our good luck—yours and mine."
"I hope it will bring the good luck," said Jed smiling.
"I would offer you a glass too, if I had another nickel."
"Thank you, but I never drink beer. I thank you all the same."
His companion rose and left the park, probably in search of a beer saloon. Jed got up, too, and took another walk. By half-past twelve he felt decidedly hungry. His breakfast had lasted him till then, but he was young and healthy, and craved three meals a day.
"How shall I manage to get dinner?" thought Jed seriously.
He paused in front of the Astor House, which he knew to be a hotel, and saw business men entering in quest of their midday lunch.
It was tantalizing. There was plenty of food inside, but he lacked the wherewithal to purchase a portion.
"Why, Jed, how are you?" came unexpectedly to his ears.
He looked up and saw a brown-bearded, pleasant-faced man, whom he recognized as a fellow-guest at the Spray Hotel at Sea Spray.
"When did you leave Sea Spray?" asked his friend.
"Only yesterday."
"Going to stay in the city?"
"Yes, if I can get anything to do."
"Have you been to lunch?"
"Not yet."
"Come in and lunch with me, then. I think we can find something inviting at the Astor."
"Saved!" thought Jed, as he gladly passed into the famous hostelry with his friend. "I wonder if he has any idea how glad I am to accept his invitation?"
CHAPTER XXVI. IN SEARCH OF EMPLOYMENT.
Jed followed his hotel friend up stairs into an upper dining-room, and they took seats at a corner table.
"I never like to dine alone," said Howell Foster. "I am glad I fell in with you, Jed."
"So am I," answered Jed. "I am more glad than you have any idea of," he said to himself.
"What will you order?" asked Mr. Foster, pushing over the bill of fare to his companion.
"I have a healthy appetite and shall enjoy anything," said Jed with a smile. "Please order the same for me as for yourself."
Howell Foster was rather proud of his gastronomic knowledge, and took this as a compliment.
"You can trust me to do that," he replied. "I am used to the place and know what they succeed best in."
Thereupon he ordered a dinner which Jed found delicious. No expense was spared, and Jed, glancing at the bill when it was brought, found that the charge was three dollars and a half.
During the repast the host kept up a bright and chatty conversation.
"I hope you enjoyed your dinner," he said, when it was over.
"Actions speak louder than words," answered Jed with a smile.
"This is a good, reliable place. I advise you to come here often."
"What would he say if he could see the inside of my pocket-book?" thought Jed. "I am afraid," he said aloud, "it is too expensive for my means."
"Yes, probably; I didn't think of that. By the way, what have you in view?"
"I hardly know yet."
"Come round and see me some day," and Foster handed Jed his card.
"Thank you, sir."
"Will you have a cigar?"
"No, thank you, sir. I don't smoke."
"It would be money in my pocket if I didn't. My cigars cost me last year five hundred dollars."
"I wish I was sure of that for my entire income," thought Jed.
They parted at the entrance to the hotel. It was clear from his manner and speech that Howell Foster thought Jed in easy circumstances.
It made the boy feel almost like an impostor, but he reflected that he had done nothing to give Mr. Foster a false impression.
It was about half-past one when he left the hotel. The dinner had occupied an hour. The world was still before him, but he had eaten a hearty meal and felt that he could get along, if necessary, till the next morning, so far as eating was concerned.
Where to sleep presented a perplexing problem, but it would be some time before it required to be solved. How to spend the afternoon puzzled Jed. He went back to City Hall Park, and on the seat he had formerly occupied he found a copy of the New York Herald which somebody had left there. He took it up and looked over the advertisements for Help Wanted.
He found the following:
Wanted.—Smart, enterprising agents to sell packages of stationery. Fifteen dollars a week can easily be made. Call at No. 182 Nassau Street, Room 22.
This struck Jed as just the thing. It could not be very hard to sell stationery, and fifteen dollars a week would support him comfortably.
"Where is Nassau Street?" he inquired of a bootblack who took a temporary seat beside him.
"There 'tis," said the street boy, pointing in the direction of the Tribune building. "You just go down in front of the Tribune."
"Is No. 182 far off?"
"No, it's close by. You can get there in less than no time."
"Thank you!" and with hope in his heart Jed rose and walked in the direction indicated.
He found the building. At the entrance was a list of occupants of rooms. He went up two flights of stairs, and halted in front of No. 22. He knocked at the door and was bidden in a deep, hoarse voice to "Come in!"
Opening the door, he found himself in the presence of a short, humpbacked man, whose voice was quite out of proportion to his size.
"I suppose you come to see me about the advertisement in the Herald," said the dwarf.
"Yes, sir," answered Jed, gazing as if fascinated at the stunted figure, huge head and long arms of the person before him.
"I have engaged several agents already this morning," went on the dwarf, turning over a large book on the desk before him.
"Then perhaps you don't need any more?" said Jed despondently.
"Oh, yes, I do if I can get the right ones," was the answer.
"It is to sell packages of stationery, I believe. Can you show me some?"
The dwarf handed Jed a flat package, on the outside of which was printed a list of the contents. They included a pen holder, pens, a quire of paper, a supply of envelopes, and several other articles.
"This is the best package in the market for the money," said the dwarf. "Observe how varied are the contents, and only a paltry twenty-five cents for the whole."
"Yes, it seems a good bargain," said Jed.
"You are right there," said the dwarf confidently. "Why, you can make money hand over hand. Our agents are actually coining it. We allow them to retain ten cents on each package. Two or three, and sometimes five, are sold to the same person. Would you like to have me read one or two agents' letters?"
"Yes, if you please."
"Here is one from Theodore Jenkins, who is operating in Pennsylvania:
"'Hugo Higgins, Esq.
"'Dear Sir:
"'Please send me at once two hundred packages of stationery. They sell like hot cakes. I got rid of forty yesterday, and it rained half the day, too. I have held several agencies for different articles, but none that paid as well as this. I shall be disappointed if I don't make forty dollars per week. It looks as if it might exceed that sum.
"'Yours respectfully,
"'Theodore Jenkins.'
"That letter speaks for itself," remarked the dwarf as he folded it up and replaced it in an envelope.
"Yes," said Jed, "it is certainly very encouraging."
"I will read you another from a party who has been in our employ for fourteen months. He is operating in Ohio.
"'Dear Sir:
"'You may send me three hundred packages by Adams Express, and please don't delay, for I need them at once. I have been working for you for fourteen months. During that time I have supported my family and bought a house, on which I have paid cash down a thousand dollars. In the course of the next year and a half I expect to complete the payment and own the house clean. It was certainly a lucky thing for me when I saw your advertisement for agents and engaged in your service.
"'Yours gratefully,
"'Arthur Waters.
"That is another letter that speaks for itself," observed Mr. Higgins. "I have plenty more, but I don't think I need to read any others to convince you that the business will pay any one that takes hold of it."
"Perhaps," added Jed, "these gentlemen had experience as agents."
"One of them had, but the other was quite green in the business."
"You think then that I could succeed?"
"Undoubtedly. You look smart and have a taking way with you. You can't fail to succeed."
This was pleasant to hear, and Jed felt strongly impelled to engage in the service of the plausible Higgins.
"If you will trust me with twenty packages," he said, "I will see what I can do."
"Certainly. That will be three dollars. You see we charge you fifteen cents each, and you sell them for twenty-five. That gives you two dollars. You had better take fifty packages, and then you won't have to come back to-morrow."
"Very well, I will take fifty."
"All right. You may pay me seven dollars and a half, and I will get the packages ready."
"Do you require payment in advance?" asked Jed quickly.
"Certainly. You are a stranger to me, and even if you were not, I should not feel like risking so much money or money's worth. What is there to hinder your making off with it and never coming back?"
"I wouldn't be dishonest for a great deal more money than that."
"I dare say you are right, but we must adhere to our business methods. You will get your money back in two days probably."
"But I haven't the money to pay in advance."
"Oh, that alters the matter," said Higgins, become less gracious. "How much have you?"
"I am unable to pay anything," said Jed desperately.
Mr. Hugo Higgins turned away, no longer interested in Jed. Poor Jed felt sadly disappointed at losing so good a chance, but something happened to mitigate his regret.
A stout man with red hair opened the door of the office and dashed in, carrying in his hands a large package.
"I want my money back!" he said. "You are a big schwindler!"
CHAPTER XXVII. AN INTRACTABLE AGENT.
The new visitor was a large man, evidently a German, weighing not less than two hundred pounds. He approached Hugo Higgins, towering above the dwarf by at least fourteen inches, and shook his fist in his face. Mr. Higgins shrank back as if fearful of a personal assault, and inquired in uneasy tones:
"Who are you, my friend?"
"Who am I?" retorted the other, laughing gutturally. "You know me well enough, you villain!"
"I think I have seen you somewhere," said Hugo, not daring to show the anger he felt at the hard name by which the other addressed him.
"You have seen me somewhere? Come, that's good. My name is Otto Schmidt, and I am one of your victims. You understand that, hey?"
"No. I can't say I do."
"Then I'll tell you. I came in here last week and bought some of your confounded packages. I was to make big wages by selling them, hey?"
"Certainly, I hope you did."
"You hope I did?" repeated Mr. Otto Schmidt fiercely. "Well, I tell you. I went round two days in Montclair, and how many packages you think I sell, hey?"
"About fifty," answered Hugo with a sickly smile.
"About fifty? Ha, ha!" returned the German, laughing wildly. "I sell just one to a young boy named Chester Noyes. That's all I sell."
"My dear Mr. Schmidt, I am afraid you got discouraged too soon," said Hugo suavely.
"So I am your dear Mr. Schmidt, hey? You cost me dear enough with your lies about the business, you scoundrel!"
"I cannot allow you to talk to me in this way," said Hugo in a dignified tone.
"Oh, you won't, hey?" retorted the German, beginning to dance about the floor.
"Well, I won't. Maybe you prefer to have me step on your necktie, hey?"
Hugo Higgins looked alarmed, and Jed could hardly help laughing.
"Well, what do you want?" asked Hugo, afraid some applicant for an agency might enter and be frightened away.
"What do I want? I want my money back."
"That is against our rules," said Hugo. "My good Mr. Schmidt, take the packages and go to some other place. Other agents have told me that Montclair is not a good town for business. Go to—to Rahway! I am sure you will sell all your packages there."
"No; I don't go to Rahway. I sell all my packages here."
"But, my good friend——"
"I am not your good friend. I am no friend to a rascal."
"Really, this language——"
"Never mind about the language! I ain't going to be schwindled by no fakir. I've got forty-nine packages here, and I want you to pay me back my money, seven dollars and thirty-five cents."
"I can't think of such a thing."
"Then I give you in charge for schwindling," said Otto Schmidt, thrusting a fat fist directly under Hugo's nose. "I may be one Dutchman, but I ain't so dumb as you think I am."
"I don't think you dumb at all," said Hugo soothingly. "I think you are a smart man of business."
"You find me too schmart to be schwindled, I tell you that."
"Still, if you don't want to go on with the business, I'll take back the packages and give you five dollars for them."
"And I to lose two dollars and thirty-five cents, besides all my time. Not much, Mr. Hugo Higgins."
"You can't expect me to give you back all the money."
"Well, I do," said Mr. Schmidt stoutly. "I give you just two minutes to make up your mind."
Just then the door opened, and a young man who was evidently from the country entered.
"I seed your advertisement," he said. "I want to be an agent, if you can give me a chance."
Otto Schmidt smiled sardonically, and was about to speak, when Hugo said hurriedly, "Come out into the hall, Mr. Schmidt, and I think we can arrange your business satisfactorily."
"All right! I come," and he followed Hugo out into the entry.
"I will pay you your money," said the agent. "It is quite against my rules, but I will make an exception in your case."
"I want a dollar more to pay me for my time," said the German, appreciating his advantage.
"But, my dear sir, this is very unreasonable," said Mr. Higgins uneasily.
"Then I go back into the room and show you up."
"Very well, here is your money!" and Hugo with great reluctance drew out eight dollars and thirty-five cents and handed it to Mr. Schmidt.
Otto Schmidt chuckled and nodded significantly at the discomfited Hugo.
"I may be a Dutchman," he said, "but I ain't no chump."
Hugo re-entered the office and smiled affably at the young man from the country.
"One of our successful agents," he said, nodding towards the door. "I won't tell you how much that German gentleman has made by selling our famous packages, for you might not believe me."
"Can you give me a chance?" asked the young hayseed anxiously.
"Well, I think I can," said Hugo with assumed hesitation, and then he explained on what terms he sold, as he had done to Jed.
"How many packages will you take?" he asked pleasantly.
"I guess I'll take a dozen to begin with," said the young man from the country.
"A dozen!" replied Hugo, much disappointed. "My, that's no order at all. You would have to come back for more before the day was out."
"Well, I'll take fifteen," said the young man after reflection.
"You'd better take fifty. Very few of our agents take less than fifty."
"No, I ain't got much money. I'll only take fifteen to begin with."
And to this determination he adhered, in spite of the persuasions of Mr. Higgins.
As Hugo wrapped up the packages and received back two dollars and twenty-five cents, he regretted that he had so hastily agreed to buy back Mr. Schmidt's boxes at an advance on the original cost.
"Where would you advise me to sell?" asked the young man.
"Country towns are best," said Hugo. "Some distance from the city, I advise, as those who live near New York can come here and buy, and are less ready to patronize agents."
Jed smiled to himself. He understood that Mr. Higgins wished to guard against a visit from the young man in case his business failed to meet his anticipations. He lingered behind after the rural visitor had gone.
"I hope," said Hugo, "you took no stock in what that stupid Dutchman said."
"Well," replied Jed, "it shows that some of your agents are not successful."
"A man like that could not succeed in selling anything," said Hugo scornfully. "Now it is different with you. You look smart."
Jed smiled. He began to understand Mr. Higgins and his methods.
"Then you remember the letters from the agents which I read you."
"Yes," answered Jed, but he felt convinced now that the letters were bogus, and manufactured by Mr. Higgins himself.
"When you can command the necessary funds I shall be glad to have you call and buy a bundle of samples."
"I don't think I shall care to enter into the business, Mr. Higgins," said Jed. "It would be an experiment, and I am not in a position to try experiments."
Higgins looked at Jed, and saw that he was understood.
"Very well!" he said coldly. "You must do as you like, but you are making a mistake."
Jed left the office and went down stairs. What had happened did not encourage him. It seemed a good deal harder to make a living in a large city than he supposed.
He saw now that there were sharpers ready to fleece the young and inexperienced. If he had not been robbed of his money, in all probability he would have fallen a victim to the persuasive but deceptive representations of Mr. Higgins, and have come back disappointed like Mr. Otto Schmidt.
He continued his walk down Nassau Street, and presently turned into Broadway. His attention was attracted to a church with a very high spire facing Wall Street. He inquired the name and found it was Trinity Church. The Scranton meeting-house could easily have been tucked away in one corner of the large edifice, and as far as height was concerned, it was but an infant compared with a six-footer.
He walked still further down Broadway, till he reached a green park, which he found was called the Battery. Feeling somewhat fatigued, he sat down on a bench near the sea-wall and looked over toward Governor's Island. Craft of different sizes were passing, and Jed was interested and exhilarated by the spectacle.
CHAPTER XXVIII. A STRANGE COMMISSION.
Jed's companion on the seat was a sallow-faced, black-bearded man. Jed merely glanced at him, but presently became aware that he had become the object of the sallow man's scrutiny.
Finally the latter moved rather nearer Jed, and showed a disposition to be sociable.
"A fine day, young man," he began.
"Yes, sir."
"And a fine view we have before us," went on the stranger, pointing to the harbor and the numerous craft that were passing in both directions. "However, I suppose it is quite familiar to you?"
"No, sir; I am a stranger in the city."
"Indeed!" and here the stranger allowed his gaze to rest on the small gripsack that Jed had placed on the seat beside him. "Perhaps you have come in quest of work?"
"Yes, sir," answered Jed.
"Have you found anything yet?"
"No, sir, but I have only been here since yesterday morning. Do you know of any situation that I could fill?"
"Well, no, no permanent position," answered the other deliberately. "I might give you a chance to earn," here he hesitated, "two dollars this evening. But perhaps that would not be worth your while."
"Yes, sir, I should be glad to earn even that," said Jed eagerly.
"Then perhaps I may employ you. Can you row a boat?"
"Yes, sir. I think so. I have rowed on a pond up in Scranton."
"Then you can probably row here. I would row part of the way myself."
"When do you want me?" asked Jed.
"Not till late this evening. I will explain when the time comes."
Jed was disappointed. He had hoped to do the work at once, and receive the money. Then he could buy himself some supper, for he was already hungry. He found that his appetite was just as regular as if he were earning a living income, instead of being impecunious and without work.
"At what time shall I meet you, sir?"
"At eleven o'clock, here."
"Yes, sir," answered Jed, wondering what he was to do during the intervening time.
As he had no money, he must defer eating till then, and it occurred to him that he would hardly feel able to row any considerable distance unless refreshed by food. Could he venture to ask a part of the sum he was to earn in advance? He decided to do so.
"I am going to ask a favor," he said hurriedly. "I have been robbed of all my money, and I have not enough to buy my supper. If you let me have half a dollar on account——"
He feared that this proposal would be distasteful to his companion, but the sallow-faced man did not seem offended.
"Perhaps," he said thoughtfully, "I had better keep you with me, and let you eat supper with me."
"Very well, sir," said Jed, feeling relieved.
The other looked relieved.
"It is half-past five," he said. "We may as well start now."
He rose leisurely from his seat, and Jed followed him. He walked to the head of the Battery, and keeping near the piers, led the way to a humble tavern called "The Sailor's Rest."
"This will do," he said. "It is not very fashionable, but they can give us a comfortable meal."
Certainly the interior presented a great contrast to the Astor House, where Jed had lunched, or rather dined. The floor was sanded, the tables were unprovided with tablecloths. There was a bar on one side of the room, over which presided a stout bartender with mottled cheeks and a dirty white apron.
"Where is the restaurant?" asked Jed's companion.
"In there," answered the bartender with a jerk of his finger in the direction of a back room.
With a nod the sallow-faced man beckoned Jed to follow him. Opening a door, he led the way into a room provided with four tables only. On each table was a small bell.
Jed and his guide sat down, and the latter rang the bell.
A dirty-faced man, with a beard of several days' growth, made his appearance.
"We want some supper."
"What'll you have?"
"What can we have?"
"Beefsteak, ham and eggs."
"What else?"
"Eggs without."
"Without what?"
"Ham."
The sallow man shrugged his shoulders.
"It seems we must choose between beefsteak and ham and eggs," he said. "What will you have?"
"Ham and eggs," answered Jed.
"All right. Ham and eggs for two."
"Anything else?"
"Two bottles of lager. You drink beer, don't you?"
"No," answered Jed.
"Then bring the boy some tea or coffee—whichever he prefers."
"Tea," suggested Jed.
"Bread and butter, of course, and fried potatoes, if you can get them ready."
While they were waiting the man leaned back in his chair and stared out of the window at a dirty back yard, but his thoughts seemed to be otherwise occupied. Jed's eyes wandered about the room, but found little to attract him in the two or three prints—one of a yacht, another of a merchant vessel—that adorned the walls.
On the mantel was a soiled piece of coral and a large seashell. All seemed to harmonize with the name of the inn. Jed, however, felt but a fleeting interest in the furnishings of the place. His mind dwelt rather on the promised supper.
He could not understand how in this crisis of his fortunes, when there was so much to discourage him, he should have such an appetite. Savory odors from the neighboring kitchen found their way into the room when the waiter opened the door and entered to set the table.
Jed was glad to overlook the cheap and dark-hued crockery, the rusty knives and forks and the chipped glasses, as the odor of the ham and eggs was wafted to his nostrils. Finally the beer and tea were brought in, and his companion signaled to him to fall to.
"Where did you dine?" he asked abruptly.
"At the Astor House."
The sallow-faced man paused with his glass, which he had just filled, half-way to his lips.
"Was that before you were robbed of your money?" he asked.
"No, sir, but I met a gentleman whom I knew at the seaside, and he invited me to dine with him."
"Oh, that explains it. This is a very different place from the Astor House."
"I should think so," said Jed smiling.
"Still we can probably satisfy our hunger."
"Oh, yes," responded Jed, and he made a vigorous onslaught on the contents of his plate.
In a few minutes supper was over, and Jed felt better. It is wonderful how much more cheerful views we take of life and the world on a full than on an empty stomach.
Jed experienced this. He couldn't, to be sure, look very far ahead, but he had had three meals that day in spite of an empty purse, and the money he was to earn would insure him a bed and three meals for the coming day, in all probability.
"It is half-past six" said his companion, referring to his watch—"a good while before I shall need your services. Do you feel tired?"
"Yes, sir; I have been on my feet all day."
"Wait a minute."
He went out and returned in a moment.
"I have engaged a room for you," he said. "You can occupy it now if you like it, and after our expedition return to pass the balance of the night. You can leave your valise there, as it will only be in your way on the boat."
"Thank you, sir."
This solved one of Jed's problems in a pleasant manner. The waiter led the way up stairs to a small room just large enough to hold a bed and washstand, and said, "That'll do you, I guess."
"Oh yes," responded Jed cheerfully.
"The gentleman says you can lie down, and he'll call you when you're wanted."
Jed was glad of this permission, for he felt very much in need of rest. He took off his coat and laid down on the bed. The couch he found not a very luxurious one. It consisted of a thin—a very thin—mattress laid upon wooden slats, and the pillow was meagre.
But he soon fell asleep, and slept so soundly that it seemed as if only five minutes had elapsed when some one shook him, and opening his eyes, they rested on his sallow-faced employer.
"Time to get up," said the latter abruptly.
Jed sprang from the bed, and, his eyes only half open, said, "I am ready."
"Follow me, then."
He followed his guide, who walked rapidly through the dark streets till he reached a pier not far from the Battery. There was a boat moored alongside, rising and falling with the tide. There was one man already in it.
"Come along!" said his guide briefly.
Jed descended a ladder, and took his place in the boat. His companion seized the oars, signing to Jed to take his seat in the bow. Then he began to row, much better then Jed could have done.
They struck out towards Governor's Island, passed it, and proceeded a considerable distance beyond. Here lay a yacht. There was no light on board, so far as Jed could see, and it looked to be quite deserted.
The rower slackened his speed (he had not yet called upon Jed to row) and said quickly: "I want you to board that yacht. Go down into the cabin. There you will see a box, perhaps a foot square and ten inches deep. Bring it to me."
"But," said Jed, in bewilderment, "is—is it yours?"
"No," answered the sallow-faced man composedly. "It belongs to a friend of mine, the owner of the yacht. I promised to come out and get it for him."
CHAPTER XXIX. A SURPRISE PARTY.
The words of the sallow-faced man dissipated any suspicions which Jed may have entertained, and he clambered on board the yacht without much difficulty, for he was active and agile.
"Good!" said his employer. "Now go into the cabin, and be quick about it."
Jed did not understand why he should be quick about it. There was plenty of time, he thought.
Another thing puzzled him, now that he had had a chance to think the matter over. Why was the visit postponed till near midnight?
A city boy would not have had his suspicions so easily allayed; but Jed was unused to city ways, and, it may be added, to city wickedness.
The cabin seemed to be dark. He felt his way down stairs, and struck a match which he had in his pocket in order to see better the location of the box. He had just picked up the latter, finding it to be heavy, when he felt a hand laid on his arm, and looking up, met the stern gaze of a young man about twenty-eight years of age.
"What are you about here, young fellow?" he asked abruptly.
Jed was a little startled, but, not being aware that he was doing anything wrong, he replied composedly, "I was taking this box, sir."
"I see you were; but what business have you to take the box?"
"I was sent for it."
"Sent for it?" repeated the young man, looking puzzled. "Who sent you for it?"
"The gentleman in the boat outside."
"Oh ho! So there is a gentleman in the boat outside?"
"Certainly, sir. Isn't it—all right?"
"Well, I should say not, unless you consider theft right."
"What!" exclaimed Jed aghast. "Is the man who employed me a thief?"
"It looks very much like it."
At this moment the sallow-faced man called in an impatient tone, "What are you about there, you lazy young rascal? Don't be all night!"
"Is there more than one man in the boat?" asked the young man in the cabin.
"Yes, sir; there are two."
"The harbor police ought to be somewhere about. I'll rouse them if I can."
The young man went to the port-hole which served to light the cabin and fired a pistol.
"Confusion! There's some one on the yacht!" exclaimed the sallow-faced man. "We must get off."
Dipping his oars in the water, he rowed quickly away, leaving Jed to his fate. But the shot had been heard on another boat not fifty rods distant, and the piratical craft was pursued and eventually overhauled. Meanwhile Jed remained on board the yacht, whether as a prisoner or not he did not know.
"Your companions have taken alarm," said the young man. "I hear them rowing away. They have deserted you."
"I am glad of it," said Jed. "I don't want anything more to do with them. Will you tell me if that box contains anything valuable?"
"Probably the contents are worth five thousand dollars."
"Is it possible!" ejaculated Jed in amazement.
"You see you have lost quite a prize," said the young man, eyeing him closely.
"Don't say that I have lost a prize," returned Jed half indignantly. "I supposed the man who sent me for it was honest."
"What did he tell you?"
"He said that the box belonged to a friend, who had employed him to get it."
"All a lie! I am the owner of the box, and the yacht also, and I have no acquaintance with your principal. If I had not been here he would have got a rich prize."
"I am glad you were here," said Jed earnestly.
"I don't understand your connection with such a man. How much were you to be paid for your services?"
"Two dollars," answered Jed.
"Didn't it strike you as singular that you should have been employed on such an errand?"
"Well, a little; but I am a stranger to the city, and I thought it might be because I was inexperienced."
"Do you mind telling me how long you have known the person who employed you?"
"I met him for the first time at five o'clock this afternoon on the Battery. He asked me if I wanted a job, and that is how I came to be engaged."
"That sounds plausible and I am inclined to believe you."
At this moment they were interrupted. There was a sound of oars, and leaving the cabin, Jed and his companion saw the boat of the harbor police under the side. It had in tow the boat in which Jed had come from shore.
"Was there any attempt to rob the yacht?" asked the captain of police.
"Yes, sir," answered the owner.
"Have you one of the thieves aboard?"
"No, sir."
"That's not true!" said the sallow-faced man, now a prisoner. "That boy came with us," and he pointed to Jed.
"Is that true?" asked the police captain.
"This boy was sent on board by the thieves, but he was quite ignorant of the character of his employer. He is a country boy, and was an innocent agent of the guilty parties."
"You are convinced then of his innocence?"
"Entirely so."
"We shall need his evidence against these men. Will you guarantee that it shall be forthcoming?"
"Yes, captain. I will give my name and his, and will call at your office to-morrow morning."
"That will answer."
The young man took out one of his cards, bearing the name of Schuyler Roper, and wrote Jed's name, which he had ascertained, underneath.
"You will be responsible for the boy's appearance, Mr. Roper?" said the officer respectfully, reading the name by the light of a lantern.
"Yes; he will stay with me."
This seemed satisfactory, and the boat rowed away.
"I am very much obliged to you for believing in my innocence, Mr. Roper," said Jed earnestly.
"You have an innocent face," responded the young man kindly. "I am sure you are a good boy."
"I hope you won't see any reason to doubt it. I am afraid I am putting you to trouble," continued Jed, realizing that he could not leave the yacht, and was thrown on the hospitality of the owner.
"Not at all. I can accommodate you easily. You must be tired, if you have been about the city all day."
Jed admitted that he was. In fact he felt very tired, and found it hard work to keep his eyes open.
"I have sleeping accommodations for six persons on board my yacht, so that I can easily provide for you. So far from giving me trouble I shall be glad of your company, though I don't expect any more visitors to-night."
Mr. Roper pointed out a comfortable bunk, and Jed lost no time in taking possession of it. He sank into a deep sleep, which was only broken by a gentle shake from his young host. As he opened his eyes, and they met the unusual surroundings, he was at first bewildered.
"Don't you know where you are?" asked Schuyler Roper, smiling. "Don't you remember boarding my yacht with felonious intent last night?"
"Yes," answered Jed with an answering smile. "I remember that I was taken prisoner."
"Then you are subject to my orders. When I am on a cruise we have meals aboard the yacht, but I am not keeping house now. If you will assist me, we'll direct our course to land and find breakfast somewhere."
Jed did not know much about a yacht, but he liked the water and proved very quick in comprehension, so that in a comparatively short time they had reached the Battery. Here Mr. Roper found two men whom he had engaged to help man the yacht, and leaving the Juno in their charge he walked up Broadway with Jed.
"We will take breakfast at the Astor House," he said.
"I dined there yesterday," replied Jed.
"You did!" exclaimed the other in a tone of surprise. "Yet you tell me you are penniless?"
"Yes, sir, but I fell in with a gentleman whom I knew at Sea Spray, a Mr. Foster."
"Not Howell Foster?"
"Yes."
"I know him very well. If he is a friend of yours, I shall feel that I am justified in reposing confidence in you."
Just then Mr. Foster entered the room.
"Good morning, Jed," he said in a friendly tone. "So you like the Astor well enough to come back?"
"I am here by invitation of Mr. Roper."
Mr. Foster, who was shortsighted, now for the first time observed Jed's companion.
"So you know Roper, too?" he said. "Why, he's one of my closest friends. When did you pick him up, Schuyler?"
"I caught him boarding my yacht on a marauding expedition last night," said Roper, smiling.
"Bless my soul! What do you mean?"
"Sit down and take breakfast with us, and I will explain."
"And what are you going to do with this desperate young man?" asked the broker at the end of the story.