Mark Mason's Victory: The Trials and Triumphs of a Telegraph Boy

Mr. Schuyler, who was anxiously awaiting Mark's return, came out of a room to the left of the hall. When he saw Tom he looked disappointed.

"I was expecting a boy from Mr. Swan's jewelry store."

"That's where I come from."

"Did you bring the rings?" asked Schuyler eagerly.

"I don't know nothin' about no rings," answered Tom. "I've brought you a letter."

"Give it to me quick."

He opened the letter, and this is what he read with contracted brow.

"Mr. Hamilton Schuyler:

"When I called here this morning I recognized you as the young man who stole an old lady's pocketbook in a Fifth Avenue stage not long since. Of course I knew that this was another scheme of yours to get hold of money that did not belong to you. If you had been all right I would myself have brought back the real diamond rings which your aunt wished to buy. Tell her not to put off her journey to Buffalo, as Mr. Swan has made up his mind not to send them."

"Yours as ever,          
"A. D. T. 79."

"Then it was the telegraph boy, after all!" ejaculated Schuyler in a rage. "I only wish I had known it. Are you a friend of—the telegraph boy?"

"Am I a friend of Mark Mason? I should smile."

"Step in a minute, then!" said Schuyler, with an assumed friendliness.

As the unsuspecting Tom stepped inside the hall, the young man began to shower blows on his shoulders with a cane that he snatched from the hat rack.

Tom was for a minute dazed. Then his wits returned to him. He lowered his head and butted Schuyler in the stomach with such force that the latter fell over backwards with an ejaculation of pain.

Then Tom darted through the open door, but paused on the steps to say, "With the compliments of Tom Trotter."

Schuyler picked himself up, uttering execrations, and looked for the boy, but he was gone!

"Shall you want me to-morrow, Mr. Swan?" asked Mark, as the clock struck six, and the jeweler prepared to close up.

"Yes; I shall probably want you for a week."

"Very well, sir; I will so report at the office."

The next morning about eight o'clock Mark reported for duty and waited for orders.

The jeweler looked up from a letter he had been reading.

"How would you like to make a journey?" he asked.

"Very much, sir."

"I shall probably send you to Cleveland."

"Is Cleveland in Ohio?" asked Mark, his eyes sparkling.

"Yes. Do you think you can find your way there?"

"I'll try."

The material part of the letter was this:

"I want a diamond pin worth about one thousand dollars. My husband has agreed to give it to me for a birthday present, and left the selection to me. I can't find anything here that I want, and have been led to think of my old jeweler in New York. You know my taste. Select what you think I will like and send me by private messenger. I might of course employ an express, but there have been some express robberies recently, and I am ready to pay the extra expense required by a special messenger. Send at once.

"Arabella Loring."

"You see," said the jeweler, "that this is an important matter. The messenger will bear great responsibility on account of the value of what he has in charge."

"Do you think I am old enough for the commission, Mr. Swan?" said Mark modestly.

"I am not afraid, sir."

"Of course, again, you must take care not to let it be known what you have in charge. Make what statements you like as to your business. I can safely leave that to your own shrewdness."

"When do you want me to start, Mr. Swan?"

"There is a train this afternoon for Buffalo on the New York Central road. Can you get ready to take that?"

"Yes, sir. May I go home and let my mother know? I am not quite sure whether I have a supply of clean clothes."

"You can buy anything that you need on the way. Have you a gripsack?"

"Yes, sir. My mother has one."

"Will it do?"

"I think so."

"So far so good then. Now about money. I can't tell just how much you will need, but I will give you a certain amount, and if there is any over when you return you can account for it to me."

"What do you want of it, Mark?" she asked.

"I am going to start for Cleveland this afternoon."

"You're only funning, Mark," said Edith.

"No, I am not. I have agreed to go to Cleveland on business."

"What kind of business, Mark?" asked his mother.

"The gentleman who sends me, Mr. Swan, the jeweler, has asked me to keep my business secret."

"How long will you be gone?"

"I can't tell, but I will write you. Mr. Swan has told me I may stop over at Niagara Falls, but I shall not be very apt to do so till I am on my return."

"This seems very sudden. I don't know how I shall ever get along without you."

"You have money enough to last you, mother?"

"Yes."

"Then I think there won't be any trouble. If I stay away longer than I anticipate I will send you some more."

"It seems strange that Mr. Swan should send a boy on an important errand."

"The fact of the matter is, mother, that he has confidence in me."

"That is the reason why I feel ambitious to succeed."

"By the way, Mark, Mrs. Mack's nephew called yesterday and tried to get some more money out of his aunt."

"Did you give him any?"

"No. She was very much frightened, but I threatened to call a policeman, and the fellow went off grumbling."

"She won't be safe till he gets into prison again."

On his way back to the jeweler's Mark met his friend Tom Trotter.

"Where are you goin'?"

"Out West."

Tom's eyes expanded like saucers.

"You ain't jokin'?"

"No."

"When you're goin'?"

"This afternoon."

"Goin' to be gone long?"

"I expect to be back in a week."

"I wish you'd take me with you."

"I'd like to, Tom, but I can't. Traveling costs money."

Mr. Swan had already been to a ticket agent and procured a through ticket for Mark.

"Your train starts at four-thirty," said the jeweler. "You can engage a sleeping berth at the Grand Central depot. You will travel all night."

"I am sorry for that," said Mark. "I shall miss some of the scenery."

"You can arrange to travel over this part by day on your return."

It was four o'clock when Mark entered the depot. He thought it best to be on time. When the doors were opened he entered the station proper and sought the car containing his berth.

There was an upper and a lower berth, his being the lower. The two were numbered 7 and 8. He had scarcely taken his seat when a gentleman came in and sat down beside him. Neither he nor Mark had noticed each other particularly till the train had left the depot. Then the gentleman exclaimed in surprise, "Mark Mason?"

"Uncle Solon?" exclaimed the messenger in equal surprise.

"What brings you here?"

"You are in the wrong car. Didn't you know that this is the Limited Western Express?"

"Yes. I know it."

"Where are you going then?"

"I shall stop at Buffalo," answered Mark, not caring to mention his further destination.

Solon Talbot looked amazed.

"What on earth carries you out there?" he asked.

"This train," answered Mark demurely.

Solon Talbot frowned.

"You know what I mean. Why are you going to Buffalo?"

"A little matter of business."

"What business can a boy like you possibly have, I'd like to know?"

"It isn't my own business, Uncle Solon, and so I don't feel at liberty to tell."

"It is very strange. Have you a sleeping berth?"

"Yes."

"What number?"

"No. 7."

"That is the lower berth—just the one I wanted," exclaimed Talbot in vexation. "Mine is the upper. Let me see your sleeping check."

"I will exchange without the twenty-five cents if you prefer the lower berth."

"I do, but—I would rather pay."

"I can't accept it. Here is the check. Give me yours in return."

Solon did so muttering his thanks rather ungraciously. He hated to be under any obligation to his nephew.

"Where is Edgar?" asked Mark.

"I left him in New York. I am going back to Syracuse to attend to a little business, and shall then return to New York."

Mr. Talbot took out an evening paper and began to read. Mark prepared to look around him. Presently Mr. Talbot arose.

"I am going into the smoking-car to smoke a cigar," he said. "Have an eye on my grip while I am gone."

"All right, uncle."

Hours passed. The two travelers retired to their respective berths. About two o'clock Mark was startled by a severe shock that nearly threw him out of his berth. There was a confused shouting, and Mark heard some one crying,

Leaning out of the berth he saw Solon Talbot standing in the aisle, his face pale as a sheet.

When Mark came to himself he realized that he was lying on his back on the ground. It was a bright moonlight night, and he could see for some distance.

First of all he moved his arms and legs to ascertain whether any of his limbs were broken. Reassured on this point he felt next for the diamond pin. To his great relief it was safe.

All about him was confusion. He was just thinking of getting up when a man came along with a lantern, and stooping over, began to feel in the pockets of a prostrate figure lying near by. Instantly Mark was on the alert, for he felt sure that this man must be a thief intent on robbing the victims of the disaster.

Schuyler had just drawn Mr. Talbot's watch from his pocket, when Mark, putting a whistle to his mouth, blew a sharp note on it.

Schuyler started, let the watch drop, and rose in a state of nervous alarm.

"What was that?" he cried.

"Mr. Hamilton Schuyler," said Mark calmly, "that gentleman will have occasion for his watch. You had better let it alone."

"I was only going to take care of it for him," muttered Schuyler.

"You'd take care of it well," retorted Mark.

"Who are you?" demanded Schuyler, and he stepped over to where Mark lay and peered into his face.

"By jingo, if it isn't the telegraph boy!" he exclaimed. "How came you here?"

"By the train."

"Have you any more bogus diamonds about you?" inquired Schuyler sarcastically.

"I might have had if I had expected to meet you."

"I'll see what I can find at any rate."

"What's the matter?" asked the leader.

"The matter is that here is a thief, rifling the pockets of the passengers. He was just feeling in mine."

Schuyler started to run, but was quickly captured.

"What are you about, you scoundrel?" asked his captor.

"Trying to relieve the victims of the disaster," answered Schuyler. "On my honor that is all I was doing."

"Is this true?" asked his captor, turning to Mark.

"Yes; he was trying to relieve us of our valuables. He had that gentleman's watch out of his pocket when I first whistled. As you came up, he was trying to rob me."

"That's enough! Take him along."

Two strong men tied Schuyler's hands together and marched him away.

"I'll get even with you for this, you young rascal!" he exclaimed in a rage, shaking his fist at Mark.

Just then Solon Talbot recovered consciousness.

"There has been an accident, Uncle Solon," said Mark, now on his feet. "We went over an embankment and were spilled out. Are you all right? Are any of your limbs broken?"

"I—I don't think so, but I have had a shock, and my head is bruised."

"You'll do!" said a surgeon, who was one of the relief party. "You'll be as good as new in a day or two."

"Is there a hotel near by? I want to be moved."

"As soon as we can attend to the matter. We are looking for the bad cases."

"I'll look after you, Uncle Solon," said Mark. "See if you can't get up."

With much ado Mr. Talbot arose, and leaning on Mark's arm left the scene of the disaster. Mark procured a carriage and directed the driver to take them to the nearest hotel.

When they reached it the messenger ordered a room and helped his uncle up to it.

"Just look and see if you've lost anything," he suggested. "I saw a thief trying to relieve you of your watch, but I interrupted him and gave him in charge."

"Can't you stay with me, Mark?" he asked almost imploringly, for the nervous alarm inspired by the accident had made him quite a different man for the time being. "There is another bed in the room, and you can lie there."

"I will stay with you till morning, Uncle Solon, but I shall have to leave you then, as I have business to attend to."

"What kind of business?"

"I don't care to mention it just now. I am traveling for another party."

"I had no idea there would be an accident," said Mr. Talbot. "Good heavens, we might have been in eternity by this time," he added with a shudder.

"I feel very much alive," said Mark, laughing.

"I suppose the accident will be in the New York morning papers."

"So it will. I must telegraph that I am all right, or my mother will be frightened."

"Telegraph for me too," said Solon Talbot.

"All right. Tell me to whom to telegraph, Uncle Solon, and where."

"To Edgar, I think."

It was brief, and a single glance revealed its purpose to Mark. It ran thus: "Crane and Lawton told me to-day that their agent writes them from Nevada that the Golden Hope mine is developing great richness. I shouldn't wonder if it would run up to one hundred dollars per share. At this rate the 400 shares I hold will make a small fortune. C. & L. advise holding on for at least six months."

It may be imagined that Mark read this memorandum with interest. He knew very well that the mining stock referred to belonged to his grandfather's estate, but hitherto had been ignorant of the number of shares held by the same. If there were four hundred, and the price ran up to one hundred dollars per share, this would make his mother's share twenty thousand dollars!

This would be a fortune indeed, and it made his blood boil to think that his uncle proposed to cheat her out of it. The munificent sum of twenty-five dollars was all that he had offered for a receipt in full that would give him a title to the whole value of the Golden Hope shares.

His uncle was fast asleep. He was not a strong man, and the shock and fatigue of the night previous had quite exhausted him.

"What shall I do with the memorandum?" thought Mark.

He felt that it was not quite the thing to keep a private paper belonging to his uncle, yet under the circumstances, considering that his uncle was deliberately seeking to defraud his mother and himself, he decided that he was justified in doing so. Accordingly he put the memorandum carefully in his pocketbook, and opening the chamber door prepared to go down-stairs.

Just then Solon Talbot opened his eyes.

"Where am I?" he asked, in temporary bewilderment.

"In the Merchants' Hotel," replied Mark. "Don't you remember the accident of last night?"

"Oh, yes," answered Solon shuddering. "Where are you going?"

"Out to telegraph to my mother."

"You have my telegram?"

"Yes."

The last two words were intended to assure the jeweler of the safety of the diamond pin.

Mark ascertained that the next train westward would start at eleven o'clock, and so reported to his uncle.

"I shall go by the next train," he said.

As they went up to the office to pay their bills, the clerk asked Mr. Talbot, "Do you pay for this young man as well as yourself?"

Solon Talbot hesitated and looked confused.

"No," answered Mark promptly, "I pay for myself."

He drew out a ten-dollar bill and tendered it to the clerk.

"You seem to be well provided with money," said his uncle curiously.

"Yes, Uncle Solon, I can pay my way," replied Mark.

"It is very strange," thought Mr. Talbot, "how a common telegraph boy should have so much money."

Mark pushed on intent upon reaching Cleveland. He decided not to stop off at Niagara till he was on his return. He never for a moment forgot that a great responsibility rested upon him for the safe delivery of the valuable diamond pin intrusted to him by Mr. Swan. When it was safely out of his hands and in those of Mrs. Loring he would feel relieved.

He was within a hundred miles of Cleveland in a car well filled with passengers when his attention was called to a young lady sitting in the seat directly opposite him. She seemed lively and was particularly attractive.

Mark was too young to be deeply impressed by female beauty, but he experienced, like most persons, a greater pleasure in looking at a beautiful than at an ugly object. The young lady had been sitting alone, when a tall man of about forty came up the aisle and paused by her seat.

"Is this seat occupied?" he asked softly.

"Then I will presume to occupy it."

"He must be a minister," thought Mark.

His clothes were of clerical cut, he wore a white necktie, and on his head was a brown straw hat with wide brim. He folded his hands meekly on his knees, and turned towards his young companion.

"I am sorry to intrude upon you, young lady," Mark heard him say.

"It is no intrusion, sir," answered the girl pleasantly. "I have only paid for one seat, and cannot expect to monopolize two."

"Nevertheless I am sorry if in any way I have intruded upon you. I am, as you may perhaps have inferred from my appearance, a minister."

"I thought you looked like one, sir."

"I am going to make an exchange with a clerical brother."

"Yes, sir," returned the young lady, wondering what interest she could be expected to take in this circumstance.

"I always like to get acquainted with young people. I may perhaps have an opportunity of influencing them for good."

"Just so, sir; but I think such advice is better suited for Sunday, don't you?"

"I would rather listen to them when they are in season."

"True! I stand reproved."

The minister took from his pocket a small volume which he opened and began to read.

"This volume," he said, "contains the sermons of the excellent Dr. Hooker. If I had another copy I should be glad to offer it to you."

"Thank you, I don't care to read just at present."

Half an hour passed. The minister put back his book into his pocket, and bowing politely, bade the young lady good morning.

"I am pleased to have made your acquaintance," he said.

"Thank you, sir."

Five minutes later the young lady put her hand into her pocket. She uttered a cry of alarm.

"What is the matter, miss?" asked Mark.

"My purse is gone!" exclaimed the young lady in a state of nervous excitement.

"When did you last see it?" asked the messenger boy.

"About an hour ago. I bought a copy of Munsey's Magazine of the train boy, and took out my purse to pay for it."

"Yes."

"Did any one sit beside you except the old gentleman who has just left?"

"No."

"You are sure it hasn't fallen on the floor?"

"I will look."

The young lady rose and looked about under the seat, but the lost purse was not found.

"I—I don't see how I could have lost it. I have been sitting here all the time."

An idea flashed upon Mark.

"It must have been taken by the man who just left you," he said.

"But that can't be! He was a minister."

"I know he was dressed as a minister, but I don't believe he was one."

"He looked just like one. Besides he was reading a volume of sermons. I can't believe that he would rob me."

"There was one thing that didn't look very ministerial."

"What was that?"

"His nose. Do you not notice how red it was?"

"Yes, but I thought it might be some humor."

"Only about five dollars. Generally the loss would not inconvenience me, but as it is—" and she looked anxious.

"If—if I can be of any service," stammered Mark, "I hope you won't mind saying so. I can lend you five dollars."

The young lady looked grateful, but seemed in doubt as to whether she ought to accept the offer.

"I don't know whether I ought to accept such an offer from a young gentleman—" she said hesitating.

"I am a very young gentleman," said Mark smiling. "I am only sixteen!"

"That is true, and it does make a difference. Are you sure you can spare the money for a day or two?"

"Quite so, Miss—"

"Loring," prompted the young lady.

"Are you related to Mrs. Arabella Loring of Cleveland?"

The young lady looked very much surprised.

"She is my mother," she replied. "But how in the world do you know of her?"

"I will tell you later," answered Mark.

"Are you going directly to Cleveland, Miss Loring?"

"Yes, but about thirty miles this side I have a young niece at a boarding school. She will join me on the train, and will expect me to pay her railroad fare. But for that, the loss of the money would have entailed no inconvenience."

Mark drew from his pocket book a five-dollar bill and passed it to Miss Loring.

"But how can I return this to you?" she asked.

"I will call at your house. I am going to Cleveland also."

"Do so. Here is my card."

She took out a small card and tendered it to Mark. On it was inscribed:

Miss Florence Loring.
No. 1001½ Euclid Avenue.

"Inquire for me when you call!" she said.

"Thank you."

"It seems so strange that you should know my mother," she continued evidently feeling curious.

Mark smiled.

"You will know in time," he said. "If we were alone I would tell you now."

There was but one seat vacant, the one next to Florence Loring.

Mark hastily rose and sat down in it.

"I thought," he said apologetically, "you might prefer me to the man who has just entered the car."

"By all means," she answered with a bright smile. "I prefer you also to the clerical gentleman who rode with me earlier."

"Thank you. When your niece joins you I will vacate the seat in her favor."

Florence Loring was perhaps nineteen, three years older than Mark. She looked upon him quite as a boy, and therefore felt under no constraint.

"Do you come from New York?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You seem young to travel alone."

"I don't think you can be much older than I," said Mark.

"Mercy! I feel ever so much older. I feel old enough to be your aunt."

"I shouldn't mind having you for an aunt," returned Mark.

"On the whole, though, it might prove to be too much of a responsibility. You may be very hard to manage."

"Well, perhaps it might make me appear too venerable."

"Did you notice, Miss Loring, whether your clerical friend left the cars when he left the seat?"

"No; I didn't feel any particular interest in him, and did not give him a second thought."

"Perhaps he may still be on the train. I have a great mind to go and see."

"I don't think it would do any good. We could not prove that he took my purse."

"If you will excuse me for five minutes I will make a search."

Mark went through the next car and entered the second one, which was a smoking car. He looked about him, and in a seat about the middle of the car he saw the man of whom he was in search. He recognized him by his white tie and his red nose. He was smoking a cigar and gazing out of the car window.

The seat beside him being vacant Mark went forward and sat down in it.

The gentleman with the white tie glanced at him carelessly, but did not appear to think Mark was worthy of attention. He changed his mind when Mark said in a low voice:

The adventurer turned swiftly when he heard Mark's startling question. He seemed astounded at the boy's audacity.

"What did you say?" he demanded with hauteur.

"I asked you to return the purse which you took from a young lady in the second car back," repeated Mark calmly.

"Boy," said the false minister, "you must be insane or drunk."

"I don't think I am either," returned Mark.

"What do you mean by such nonsense, then? Are you aware that I am a minister of the gospel?"

"Where do you preach?"

"It is of no consequence," said the other loftily. "I am not in habit of being insulted by whipper-snappers like you."

"Are you in the habit of taking young ladies' purses, Mr.——"

"Then, Mr. Buffington, will you answer my question?"

"I shall be tempted to forget my sacred profession and throw you out of the car," said the pseudo minister, looking very unclerical as he spoke.

"I have no doubt you would like to do so."

"You ought to be thrashed for your impertinence."

"Suppose you call the conductor and complain of me. You may tell your story and I will tell mine."

This suggestion seemed fair enough, but it did not appear to strike the Rev. Mr. Buffington favorably.

"I do not care to notice the foolish insolence of a half grown boy," and the pseudo clergyman, taking a paper from his lap, half turned away from Mark, and began to read, or appeared to do so.

Mark, however, did not propose to be bluffed off in this manner.

"Mr. Buffington," he said resolutely, "I am a boy, but I know what I am about. You took the young lady's purse. Before you sat down beside her she had it in her pocket. When you left the car it was gone."

"If I ever get you alone," said Buffington in a low tone of concentrated rage.

"I am a minister, but I am also a gentleman, and I shall resent an insult."

"Look here," said Mark, getting out of patience, "either you give me back that purse for the young lady or I will call the conductor and lay the matter before him."

"Rev." Mr. Buffington tried to turn Mark from his purpose by threats, but he was evidently alarmed. He was conscious of guilt, and he knew how such an appeal would end for him.

Mark saw him waver, and followed up his advantage.

"There was only about five dollars in the purse," he said, "and it won't pay you to keep it. If you give it up without further trouble I won't expose you. What do you say?"

Mr. Buffington looked in Mark's resolute face and he saw that he was in serious earnest. He felt that he was in the boy's power, and much as it galled him, he decided that he must yield.

"It is possible, of course, that the young lady in handling the purse, may have dropped it into my pocket," he said. "I will search for it, and if that is the case it shall be returned."

He thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out the purse.

Mark took it, and opening it, saw that it contained three dollars in bills, and a dollar and seventy-five cents in silver.

"Yes, sir," he said; "this answers the description."

"Give it back to the young lady with my compliments," said Buffington with unabashed assurance. "Express my regrets at the unfortunate mistake. I now remember how it occurred. I saw the purse on the floor where she had doubtless dropped it, and supposing it to be my own put it into my pocket. I was so busily engaged, reading the volume of sermons which I carry with me that it made little impression on my mind."

"I will tell her what you say, Mr. Buffington," said Mark gravely.

Of course he might have expressed doubt of the accuracy of his companion's statement, but he had accomplished his purpose, and did not care to humiliate Buffington farther.

"Good morning, young man," said Buffington with Christian forgetfulness of Mark's errand.

"Good morning, sir."

"To think I should have been trapped and worsted by a kid!" he said to himself. "The boy is about as cool and resolute as any I ever saw. I hope I shall some day have a chance to get even with him."

Mark returned to his own car and paused at Miss Loring's seat.

"Is this your purse?" he asked, holding it up.

"Yes. Oh, where did you get it?"

"From the party who took it."

"Is he on the smoking car still?"

"Yes he is on the smoking car."

"But—didn't he object to surrendering it?"

"He made a decided objection, but I succeeded in convincing him that it was for his interest to do so."

"You are a remarkable boy," said Florence Loring admiringly.

"Thank you, Miss Loring. You will make me vain if you flatter me."

"But I am quite in earnest. I am now able to return the money you so kindly lent me."

"Are you sure you will not need it?"

"Quite sure."

"I was so afraid I should miss you, auntie," said the child.

"I have been on the lookout for you, Gertie. Come in at once."

Of course Mark vacated his seat, and aunt and niece were able to sit together. The messenger boy secured a seat a little nearer the door. He found the journey less interesting now that he was deprived of his fair companion's company.

As they were leaving the train at the Cleveland station, Florence said, "Gertie, this is Mr. Mason, who has been of great service to me during the journey."

Gertie surveyed Mark attentively. She was an irrepressible young lady, given to plain speaking.

"He ain't your beau, is he, Aunt Florence?" she asked.

Florence smiled and blushed.

"No," she answered. "Don't you see he is younger than I am. He is better suited to be your beau."

"I've got a beau already," said the child unexpectedly.

"Indeed! That is news. What's his name?"

"Dan Sillis. He is a nice boy."

"About fifteen."

"Isn't that too old for you?"

"Oh no. Husbands always are older than their wives."

Both Mark and Florence laughed.

"Don't you think you could make room for another beau?" asked Mark.

"No; but if I get tired of Dan I won't mind taking you," responded Gertie with the most perfect gravity.

"I will remember that. If we should get married your Aunt Florence would be my aunt too."

"Can I do anything for you, Miss Loring?" Mark asked as they reached the exterior of the depot.

"If you would be kind enough to call a cab."

Mark did so, and the two young ladies entered.

"I suppose you will call if you have business with mother," said Florence.

"Yes; I shall call to-morrow."

Mark was in doubt where to go, knowing nothing of the hotels in Cleveland, but seeing a stage bearing the name "Erie Hotel," decided to go there.

For obvious reasons I have not given the right name of the hotel. This name will answer so far as our story goes.

He entered, and registering his name was assigned to room 96.

"Will you go up-stairs at once, Mr. Mason?" asked the clerk.

"Yes, sir."

Mark followed the hall boy to a room on the third floor.

"Will dinner be ready soon?" he asked.

"It is on the table now, sir."

Mark washed his hands and face, combed his hair, and went down-stairs. He had but one flight to descend, the dining-room being on the second floor.

Even if the dinner had been an indifferent one Mark would have appreciated it, for he was very hungry. When he had satisfied his appetite he had a chance to look around.

Mark was not altogether pleased to find that he had not got rid of the railroad adventurer. He recognized him as a dangerous and unprincipled man.

As long as Mark had the diamond pin in his possession, the vicinity of such a fellow meant peril. He decided that he had better lose no time in delivering the pin to Mrs. Loring. He had told Florence that he would call the next day, but really there was no reason why he should not deliver it at once.

About three o'clock he called a cab and directed the driver to drive to No. 1001½ Euclid Avenue. The distance was somewhat more than a mile, and in fifteen minutes he found himself at his destination.

"Shall I wait for you?" asked the hackman.

"No; I may be in the house some time."

He paid for the cab and rang the doorbell.

"Is Mrs. Loring at home?" asked Mark of the servant who answered the bell.

"Tell her that I come from Mr. Swan of New York."

"She will see you," said the servant returning after a short absence.

Mark was ushered into the reception room, and in a few minutes a pleasant-looking woman of middle age entered. She seemed surprised when her glance rested upon Mark.

"Surely you are not Mr. Swan's messenger?" she said.

"Yes, madam."

"And you—have brought the pin?"

"Here it is," said Mark, producing it from his pocket.

Mrs. Loring eagerly opened the casket and uttered an exclamation of delight.

"It is beautiful—just what I wanted," she said.

"Mr. Swan said he thought he knew your taste."

"Did he mention the price?"

"A thousand dollars. Here is the bill."

"I shall not dispute the price, for I have perfect confidence in Mr. Swan. But—isn't it strange that he should have selected so young a messenger?" she continued, regarding Mark with curiosity.

"You might have been robbed, if any evil-minded person had known what you carried."

"That is true, but they would not be likely to think a boy would be intrusted with an article of great value."

"That is certainly an important consideration. How long have you been in Mr. Swan's employ?"

"About a week."

"And he trusted you like this?" said the lady in astonishment.

"I am really a telegraph boy. Mr. Swan had known me in that character."

"He certainly paid you a great compliment, and his confidence does not seem to have been misplaced. Shall I pay you for the pin?"

"You can give me a check payable to Mr. Swan, and I will forward it to him by mail."

"I will do so. Can you wait?"

"Oh, yes, Mrs. Loring. I had no business in Cleveland except to deliver this ring."

At that moment Florence Loring entered the room, and to her mother's surprise went up to Mark and offered her hand.

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Mason," she said.

"Thank you, Miss Florence."

"Partly," answered Mark smiling, "but I had some business with your mother."

"How in the world did you two get acquainted?" asked Mrs. Loring.

"Don't you remember, mama, what I told you about being robbed by a man who sat next to me, and having my purse returned by a boy—a young gentleman."

"I don't mind being called a boy," said Mark. "I shall be one for some time yet."

"Well?"

"Mr. Mason is the one who recovered my purse. Before that he kindly offered to loan me some money. But what possible business can he have with you?"

"See what he has brought me from New York. He comes from Mr. Swan."

"Oh mama, how lovely! Is it a present for me? You know my birthday comes in eight months."

"My dear child, even if it came to-morrow I should hardly pay a thousand dollars for a birthday gift for you."

"A thousand dollars? It seems even more lovely now that I know the price."

"All right, mama! Mr. Mason, why didn't you tell me what business you had with mama?"

"I shouldn't have minded telling you, but if some one else had heard, your clerical friend for instance, I might have been robbed."

"That is true. I hope I shall never see him again."

"Perhaps you may. I have seen him."

"You have seen him?" ejaculated Florence in surprise. "Where?"

"At the dinner table at my hotel."

"Do you think he is staying there?"

"I only know that I saw him at the table."

"At what hotel are you staying?"

"At the Erie Hotel."

"I hope you will be cautious. He may do you an injury," said Florence with flattering earnestness.

"It was because I saw him that I was anxious to deliver the pin as soon as possible."

"But he wouldn't know you had it."

"He would suppose I had some money for traveling expenses."

"True. And now you will have the large check my mother is to give you."

"You seem to be a remarkable boy—I mean you are remarkably sharp for your age."

"Telegraph boys have to be sharp."

"So you are a telegraph boy. Are there any telegraph girls?"

"Not that I know of."

"I am afraid we poor girls would be too easily imposed upon."

"Well, have you entertained Mr. Mason?" asked Mrs. Loring re-entering the room.

"I have done my best, mama. What do you think he tells me? That horrid man that stole my purse is staying at his hotel."

"Then I hope you won't send him an invitation to call here."

"He would call fast enough," suggested Mark, "if he knew what a valuable diamond pin you have in the house."

"Then I hope he won't find out. How did it happen, Florence, you didn't watch him when he was sitting beside you?"

"How could you expect me to watch a man who was engaged in reading a volume of sermons. They were the sermons of Rev. Dr. Hooker."

"Perhaps that is where he learned hooking," laughed Mark.

"Yes, but one won't be used. Louisa Frost can't go."

"Then suppose you give it to Mr. Mason. I am sure he would enjoy the play."

"Well thought of, Florence. Won't you get one of the tickets? You will find them on my bureau, that is if our young friend has no other engagement."

"I have none whatever," said Mark promptly. "You are very kind, Mrs. Loring."

"You must thank Florence. If you were a few years older I should be afraid she had designs upon you. It is leap year, you know."

"Now, mama, what will Mr. Mason think of me? I am propriety personified."

Mark concluded his call and left the house, well pleased at having successfully carried out his instructions. He went back directly to the hotel, and sitting down in the reading room wrote the following letter to his employer:

"Henry Swan, Esq.,

"Yours respectfully,         
"Mark Mason."

As he was writing the address some one passed behind his chair and looked over his shoulder at the superscription.

It was the "Rev." Mr. Buffington, as he called himself.

His eye lighted up as he saw to whom the letter was addressed.

"So this boy is traveling for a New York jeweler," he said to himself. "I am glad to know this. He probably carries a stock of jewelry with him, and if so, I shall cultivate his acquaintance."

Mark was confirmed in his belief that Mr. Buffington had left the hotel, because on looking over the book he found no such name. It did not occur to him that Lawrence Perkins was his railroad friend under another alias. Mr. Buffington was rich in names, and had masqueraded under at least a dozen. He, however, had seen Mark's name in the register, and noted carefully the number of his room. The information seemed to him important, especially after he had looked over Mark's shoulder and found that he represented a prominent jeweler in New York.

Mark did not fail to keep his appointment at the theater. He arrived first, but five minutes later Mrs. Loring, Florence and a young man, cousin to the latter, made their appearance.

Florence smiled pleasantly, and arranged the party so that Mark should sit beside her.

"No flirting, Florence," cautioned her cousin.

"Did you ever know me to flirt?" asked Florence in mock indignation.

"Well, occasionally."

"Very well, if I have the reputation I may as well deserve it," and she proceeded to chat with Mark.

In the gallery, among the cheap seats, sat Mr. Buffington, who wanted to while away the evening in a pleasant but economical manner. He did not immediately discover Mark below, but after a time recognized him.

"It is just as well I came here," he reflected, "as the kid won't get to bed till late. Wonder who his friends are. That young lady looks stylish."

"Now I can have a comfortable night's rest," he reflected.

He had nearly fifty dollars with him, but this seemed a trifle compared with the diamond pin. Still he considered in what way he could secure this from chance of theft.

There seemed, however, to be very little danger. He had locked the door inside, leaving the key in the lock. There was no door communicating with any other room. After some consideration he decided to hide the wallet containing his money, not under his pillow, but under the sheet at the lower part of the bed where he could feel it with his feet.

"I guess I'll find it safe in the morning," he said to himself.

Now that he was relieved from all anxiety he composed himself to sleep, and in less than ten minutes he was unconscious of all around him.

About an hour later Mr. Buffington in bare feet stood in front of Mark's door. Through the open transom he could hear the boy's peaceful breathing.

"He is fast asleep," he said to himself with satisfaction. "I know how boys sleep, especially when they are tired. I don't think there will be much risk in carrying out my scheme."

"It will make it harder for me," he reflected, "but there is the transom. I shall have to make use of that."

Mr. Buffington, to use the name by which we first knew him, had some experience as a gymnast. He drew himself up to a level with the transom, and then with considerable difficulty managed to get through.

The room was partially illuminated with moonlight. First of all, on descending on the other side, he turned the key in the lock so as to afford himself a way of easy escape in case of need.

Though he made some noise in landing Mark was too sound asleep to be aware of it.

"Now where does the boy keep his valuables?" Buffington asked himself.

He searched all Mark's pockets, even to the vest, but without finding anything.

Buffington paused to reflect on the situation.

"The kid has certainly got a pocketbook," he soliloquized. "He can't travel without money. Now where is it? That is the question."

He had searched everywhere else. He decided that it must be concealed somewhere about the bed. Finally he made a correct guess.

He approached the bed at the lower end, and raising the covering began to feel about in the neighborhood of Mark's feet. Now, as probably all my young readers know from personal experience, the feet are very sensitive, and there are few who are not "ticklish."

Mark who had been unconscious of the intruder's presence till now speedily became aware that some one was fumbling about his feet. On the impulse of the moment he drew one foot back and extended it suddenly in the act of kicking.

Mr. Buffington withdrew his hand swiftly, and looked anxiously at the sleeper.

But for the fact that the burglar was dangerously near the money he would have allowed him to keep on. As it was he thought it time to interfere. He gave a vigorous kick, and called out, "Who's there?"

Buffington understood that his scheme was defeated. To rob Mark when he was awake was to run too much risk.

He sprang for the door which he had unlocked, as already noted, and opening it dashed out into the corridor. Mark did not propose to facilitate his flight. He sprang from the bed and called out in a loud tone, "Help! Thieves!"

Now it so happened that the watchman attached to the hotel was just making his rounds and was not far off. He ran to the spot, caught sight of the flying figure of the departing burglar, and caught him by the shoulder.

Buffington was a strong man, and could have got away from a man of ordinary muscles. But the watchman was a man of more than average strength, having served as porter before he had been transferred to the post of watchman and detective.

He gripped Buffington in a vise-like grasp.

"No, my man," he said, "you don't get away so easy. Stand still, and give an account of yourself."

"Then why are you not in bed?"

"Because I had a severe headache and thought I would take a little walk in the corridor."

"What made you come into my room?" demanded Mark, who now appeared on the scene.

"I didn't know whose room it was. I thought it was my own."

"How did you get in? The door was locked."

"No, it wasn't," answered Buffington boldly. "You thought you locked it, but you didn't. Trying the knob it opened at once, and I supposed it was my own which I had left unlocked."

"Is that true?" asked the watchman, looking doubtfully at Mark.

"No, it isn't. I took special pains to lock the door, for I knew that there was a possibility of my room being entered."

"Then he must have got through the transom. We have had such cases before."

"If you have finished asking foolish questions I will go back to bed," said Buffington with remarkable assurance.

"Wait a minute. Did you see this man in your room?"

The question was addressed to Mark.

"Yes. I woke up while he was there."

"Searching for my purse. He was fumbling about the bedclothes at the foot of the bed."

"Was your money there?"

"Yes."

Buffington's face contracted with disappointment. He had been on the brink of success, when Mark, unfortunately for him, awoke.

"And you spoke to him?"

"Yes."

"What then?"

"He sprang for the door, and would have escaped if you had not caught him."

"Did you ever see the man before?"

"I saw him on the train coming here for the first time."

"Did anything happen on the train?"

"Yes. He stole a young lady's pocketbook. I made him give it up."

Buffington looked at Mark menacingly. He would have liked to wreak his vengeance upon him.

"Do you know his name?"

"He calls himself Rev. Mr. Buffington."

The watchman laughed grimly.

"Sorry to disturb you, reverend sir," he said, "but I shall be obliged to lock you in your room till morning."

"All right!" he said. "I shall at any rate secure a good night's sleep."

The watchman did as he suggested. He shut the burglar in his room, and locked the door from the outside.