The attack was so sudden and unexpected that Luke was for the moment incapable of resistance, though in general quite ready to defend himself. It was not till he felt a hand in his pocket that he "pulled himself together," as the English express it, and began to make things lively for his assailants.
"What are you after?" he demanded. "Do you want to rob me?"
"Give us the money, and be quick about it."
"How do you know I have any money?" asked Luke, beginning to suspect in whose hands he was.
"Never mind how! Hand over that five-dollar bill," was the reply in the same hoarse whisper.
"I know you now. You're Tom Brooks," said Luke. "You're in bad business."
"No, I'm not Tom Brooks." It was Pat who spoke now. "Come, we have no time to lose. Stephen, give me your knife."
The name was a happy invention of Pat's to throw Luke off the scent. He was not himself acquainted with our hero, and did not fear identification.
"One of you two is Tom Brooks," said Luke, firmly. "You'd better give up this attempt at highway robbery. If I summon an officer you're liable to a long term of imprisonment. I'll save you trouble by telling you that I haven't any money with me, except a few pennies."
"Where's the five-dollar bill?"
It was Tom who spoke now.
"I left it at home with my mother. It's lucky I did, though you would have found it hard to get it from me."
"I don't believe it," said Tom, in a tone betraying disappointment.
"You may search me if you like; but if a policeman comes by you'd better take to your heels."
The boys appeared disconcerted.
"Is he lying?" asked Pat.
"No," responded Tom. "He'd own up if he had the money."
"Thank you for believing me. It is very evident that one of you knows me. Good-night. You'd better find some other way of getting money."
"Wait a minute! Are you going to tell on us? It wouldn't be fair to Tom Brooks. He ain't here, but you might get him into trouble."
"I shan't get you into trouble, Tom, but I'm afraid you bring trouble on yourself."
Apparently satisfied with this promise, the two boys slunk away in the darkness, and Luke was left to proceed on his way unmolested.
"I wouldn't have believed that of Tom," thought Luke. "I'm sorry it happened. If it had been anyone but me, and a cop had come by, it would have gone hard with him. It's lucky I left the money with mother, though I don't think they'd have got it at any rate."
Luke did not acquaint his mother with the attempt that had been made to rob him. He merely told of his visit and of the sad plight of the little bootblack.
"I would like to have helped him, mother," Luke concluded. "If we hadn't been robbed of that money father sent us——"
"We could afford the luxury of doing good," said his mother, finishing the sentence for him.
Luke's face darkened with justifiable anger.
"I know it is wrong to hate anyone, mother," he said; "but I am afraid I hate that man Thomas Butler, whom I have never seen."
"It is sometimes hard to feel like a Christian, Luke," said his mother.
"This man must be one of the meanest of men. Suppose you or I should fall sick! What would become of us?"
"We won't borrow trouble, Luke. Let us rather thank God for our present good health. If I should be sick it would not be as serious as if you were to become so, for you earn more than twice as much as I do."
"It ought not to be so, mother, for you work harder than I do."
"When I get a sewing machine I shall be able to contribute more to the common fund."
"I hope that will be soon. Has Bennie gone to bed?"
"Yes, he is fast asleep."
"I hope fortune will smile on us before he is much older than I. I can't bear the idea of sending him into the street among bad boys."
"I have been accustomed to judge of the newsboys by my son. Are there many bad boys among them?"
"Many of them are honest, hard-working boys, but there are some black sheep among them. I know one boy who tried to commit highway robbery, stopping a person whom he had seen with money."
"Did he get caught?"
"No, he failed of his purpose, and no complaint was made of him, though his intended victim knew who his assailant was."
"I am glad of that. It would have been hard for his poor mother if he had been convicted and sent to prison."
This Mrs. Walton said without a suspicion that it was Luke that the boy had tried to rob. When Luke heard his mother's comment he was glad that he had agreed to overlook Tom's fault.
The next morning Luke went as usual to the vicinity of the Sherman House, and began to sell papers. He looked in vain for Tom Brooks, who did not show up.
"Where is Tom Brooks?" he asked of one of Tom's friends.
"Tom's goin' to try another place," said the boy. "He says there's too many newsboys round this corner. He thinks he can do better somewheres else."
"Where is he? Do you know?"
"I seed him near the corner of Dearborn, in front of the 'Saratoga.'"
"Well, I hope he'll make out well," said Luke.
Luke had the five-dollar bill in his pocket, but he knew that it was too early for the offices on La Salle Street to be open.
Luke's stock of morning papers included the ChicagoTribune, theTimes,Herald, andInter-Ocean. He seldom disposed of his entire stock as early as ten o'clock, but this morning another newsboy in addition to Tom was absent, and Luke experienced the advantage of diminished competition. As he sold the last paper the clock struck ten.
"I think it will do for me to go to Mr. Afton's office now," thought Luke. "If I don't find him in I will wait."
La Salle Street runs parallel with Clark. It is a busy thoroughfare, and contains many buildings cut up into offices. This was the case with No. 155.
Luke entered the building and scanned the directory on either side of the door. He had no difficulty in finding the name of Benjamin Afton.
He had to go up two flights of stairs, for Mr. Afton's office was on the third floor.
Mr. Afton's office was of unusual size, and fronted on La Salle Street. As Luke entered he observed that it was furnished better than the ordinary business office. On the floor was a handsome Turkey carpet. The desks were of some rich dark wood, and the chairs were as costly as those in his library. In a closed bookcase at one end of the room, surmounted by bronze statuettes, was a full library of reference.
At one desk stood a tall man, perhaps thirty-five, with red hair and prominent features. At another desk was a young fellow of eighteen, bearing a marked resemblance to the head bookkeeper. There was besides a young man of perhaps twenty-two, sitting at a table, apparently filing bills.
"Mr. Afton must be a rich man to have such an elegant office," thought Luke.
The red-haired bookkeeper did not take the trouble to look up to see who had entered the office.
"Is Mr. Afton in?" Luke asked, in a respectful tone.
The bookkeeper raised his eyes for a moment, glanced at Luke with a supercilious air, and said curtly, "No!"
"Do you know when he will be in?" continued the newsboy.
"Quite indefinite. What is your business, boy?"
"My business is with Mr. Afton," Luke answered.
"Humph! is it of an important nature?"
"It is not very important," he answered, "but I wish to see Mr. Afton personally."
"Whose office are you in?"
"He isn't in any office, Uncle Nathaniel," put in the red-haired boy. "He is a newsboy. I see him every morning round the Sherman House."
"Ha! is that so? Boy, we don't want to buy any papers, nor does Mr. Afton. You can go."
As the bookkeeper spoke he pointed to the door.
"I have no papers to sell," said Luke, "but I come here on business with Mr. Afton, and will take the liberty to wait till he comes."
"Oh, my eyes! Ain't he got cheek?" ejaculated the red-haired boy. "I say, boy, do you black boots as well as sell papers?"
"No, I don't."
"Some of the newsboys do. I thought, perhaps, you had got a job to black Mr. Afton's boots every morning."
Luke who was a spirited boy, was fast getting angry.
"I don't want to interfere with you in any way," he said.
"What do you mean?" demanded the red-haired boy, his cheeks rivaling his hair in color.
"I thought that might be one of your duties."
"Why, you impudent young vagabond! Uncle Nathaniel, did you hear that?"
"Boy, you had better go," said the bookkeeper.
"You can leave your card," added Eustis Clark, the nephew.
A friend of Luke's had printed and given him a dozen cards a few days previous, and he had them in his pocket at that moment.
"Thank you for the suggestion," he said, and walking up to the boy's desk he deposited on it a card bearing this name in neat script:
LUKE WALTON.
"Be kind enough to hand that to Mr. Afton."
Eustis held up the card, and burst into a guffaw.
"Well, I never!" he ejaculated. "Mr. Walton," he concluded, with a ceremonious bow.
"The same to you!" said Luke, with a smile.
"I never saw a newsboy put on such airs before," he said, as Luke left the office. "Did you, Uncle Nathaniel? Do you think he really had any business with the boss?"
"Probably he wanted to supply the office with papers. Now stop fooling, and go to work."
"They didn't seem very glad to see me," thought Luke. "I want to see Mr. Afton this morning, or he may think that I have not kept my word about the money."
Luke stationed himself in the doorway at the entrance to the building, meaning to intercept Mr. Afton as he entered from the street. He had to wait less than ten minutes. Mr. Afton smiled in instant recognition as he saw Luke, and seemed glad to see him.
"I am glad the boy justified my idea of him," he said to himself. "I would have staked a thousand dollars on his honesty. Such a face as that doesn't belong to a rogue."
"I am rather late," he said. "Have you been here long?"
"Not very long, sir; I have been up in your office."
"Why didn't you sit down and wait for me?"
"I don't think the red-haired gentleman cared to have me. The boy asked me to leave my card."
Mr. Afton looked amused.
"And did you?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Do you generally carry visiting cards?"
"Well, I happened to have some with me this morning."
"Please show me one. So your name is Luke Walton?" he added, glancing at the card.
"Yes, sir; office corner Clark and Randolph Streets."
"I will keep the card and bear it in mind."
"I have brought your change, sir," said Luke.
"You can come upstairs and pay it to me in the office. It will be more business-like."
Luke was glad to accept the invitation, for it would prove to the skeptical office clerks that he really had business with their employer.
Eustis Clark and his uncle could not conceal their surprise when they saw Luke follow Mr. Afton into the office.
There was a smaller room inclosed at one corner, which was especially reserved for Mr. Afton.
"Come here, Luke," said he, pleasantly.
Luke followed him inside.
He drew from his pocket four dollars and ninety-eight cents, and laid it on the table behind which his patron had taken a seat.
"Won't you please count it and see if it is right?" he asked.
"I can see that it is, Luke. I am afraid I have put you to more trouble than the profit on the two papers I bought would pay for."
"Not at all, sir. Besides, it's all in the way of business. I thank you for putting confidence in me."
"I thought I was not mistaken in you, and the result shows that I was right. My boy, I saw that you had an honest face. I am sure that the thought of keeping back the money never entered your head."
"No, sir, it did not, though one of the newsboys advised me to keep it."
"It would have been very shortsighted as a matter of policy. I will take this money, but I want to encourage you in the way of well-doing."
He drew from his vest pocket a bill, and extended it to Luke.
"It isn't meant as a reward for honesty, but only as a mark of the interest I have begun to feel in you."
"Thank you, sir," said Luke; and as he took the bill, he started in surprise, for it was ten dollars.
"Did you mean to give as much as this?"
"How much is it?"
"Ten dollars."
"I thought it was five, but I am glad it is more. Yes, Luke, you are welcome to it. Have you anyone dependent upon you?"
"My mother. She will be very much pleased."
"That's right, my lad. Always look out for your mother. You owe her a debt which you can never repay."
"That is true, sir. But I would like to use a part of this money for some one else."
"For yourself?"
"No; for a friend."
Then he told in simple language of Jim Norman, and how seriously his family was affected by his sickness and enforced idleness.
"Jim has no money to buy medicine," he concluded. "If you don't object, Mr. Afton, I will give Jim's mother half this money, after buying some cough medicine out of it."
The merchant listened with approval.
"I am glad, Luke, you feel for others," he said, "but I can better afford to help your friend than you. Here is a five-dollar bill. Tell the boy it is from a friend, and if he should need more let me know."
"Thank you, sir," said Luke, fairly radiant as he thought of Jim's delight. "I won't take up any more of your time, but will bid you good-morning."
Probably Mr. Afton wished to give his clerks a lesson, for he followed Luke to the door of the outer office, and shook hands cordially with him, saying: "I shall be glad to have you call, when you wish to see me, Luke;" adding, "I may possibly have some occasional work for you to do. If so, I know where to find you."
"Thank you, sir."
"What's got into the old man?" thought Eustis Clark.
As Mr. Afton returned to his sanctum, Eustis said with a grin, holding up the card:
"Mr. Walton left his card for you, thinking you might not be in time to see him."
"Give it to me, if you please," and the rich man took the card without a smile, and put it into his vest pocket, not seeming in the least surprised.
"Mr. Walton called to pay me some money," he said, gravely. "Whenever he calls invite him to wait till my return."
Luke went home that evening in high spirits. The gift he had received from Mr. Afton enabled him to carry out a plan he had long desired to realize. It was to secure a sewing machine for his mother, and thus increase her earnings while diminishing her labors. He stopped at an establishment not far from Clark Street, and entering the showroom, asked: "What is the price of your sewing machines?"
"One in a plain case will cost you twenty-five dollars."
"Please show me one."
"Do you want it for your wife?"
"She may use it some time. My mother will use it first."
The salesman pointed out an instrument with which Luke was well pleased.
"Would you like to see how it works?"
"Yes, please."
"Miss Morris, please show this young man how to operate the machine."
In the course of ten minutes Luke got a fair idea of the method of operating.
"Do you require the whole amount down?" asked Luke.
"No; we sell on installments, if preferred."
"What are your terms?"
"Five dollars first payment, and then a dollar a week, with interest on the balance till paid."
"Then I think I will engage one," Luke decided.
"Very well! Come up to the desk, and give me your name and address. On payment of five dollars, we will give you a receipt on account, specifying the terms of paying the balance, etc."
Luke transacted his business, and made arrangements to have the machine delivered any time after six o'clock, when he knew he would be at home.
As Luke was coming out of the sewing-machine office he saw Tom Brooks just passing. Tom looked a little uneasy, not feeling certain whether Luke had recognized him as one of his assailants or not the evening previous.
Luke felt that he had a right to be angry. Indeed, he had it in his power to have Tom arrested, and charged with a very serious crime—that of highway robbery. But his good luck made him good-natured.
"Good-evening, Tom," he said. "I didn't see you selling papers to-day."
"No; I was on Dearborn Street."
"He doesn't know it was me," thought Tom, congratulating himself, and added: "Have you been buying a sewing machine?"
This was said in a joke.
"Yes," answered Luke, considerably to Tom's surprise. "I have bought one."
"How much?"
"Twenty-five dollars."
"Where did you raise twenty-five dollars? You're foolin'."
"I bought it on the installment plan—five dollars down."
"Oho!" said Tom, nodding significantly. "I know where you got that money?"
"Where did I?"
"From the gentleman that bought a couple of papers yesterday."
"You hit it right the first time."
"I thought you weren't no better than the rest of us—you that pretended to be so extra honest."
"What do you mean by that, Tom Brooks?"
"You pretended that you were going to give back the man's change, and spent it, after all. I thought you weren't such a saint as you pretended to be."
"I see you keep on judging me by yourself, Tom Brooks. I took round the money this morning, and he gave it to me."
"Is that true?"
"Yes; I generally tell the truth."
"Then you're lucky. If I'd returned it, he wouldn't have given me a cent."
"It's best to be honest on all occasions," said Luke, looking significantly at Tom, who colored up, for he now saw that he had been recognized the night before.
Tom sneaked off on some pretext, and Luke kept on his way home.
"Did you do well to-day, Luke?" asked Bennie.
"Yes, Bennie; very well."
"How much did you make?"
"I'll tell you by and by. Mother, can I help you about the supper?"
"You may toast the bread, Luke. I am going to have your favorite dish—milk toast."
"All right, mother. Have you been sewing to-day?"
"Yes, Luke. I sat so long in one position that I got cramped."
"I wish you had a sewing machine."
"So do I, Luke; but I must be patient. A sewing machine costs more money than we can afford."
"One can be got for twenty-five dollars, I have heard."
"That is a good deal of money for people in our position."
"We may as well hope for one. I shouldn't be surprised if we were able to buy a sewing machine very soon."
Meanwhile Luke finished toasting the bread and his mother was dipping it in milk when a step was heard on the stairway, the door was opened, and Nancy's red head was thrust into the room.
"Please, Mrs. Walton," said Nancy, breathlessly, "there's a man downstairs with a sewing machine which he says is for you."
"There must be some mistake, Nancy. I haven't ordered any sewing machine."
"Shall I send him off, ma'am?"
"No, Nancy," said Luke; "it's all right. I'll go down stairs and help him bring it up."
"How is this, Luke?" asked Mrs. Walton, bewildered.
"I'll explain afterwards, mother."
Up the stairs and into the room came the sewing machine, and was set down near the window. Bennie surveyed it with wonder and admiration.
When the man who brought it was gone, Luke explained to his mother how it had all come about.
"You see, mother, you didn't have to wait long," he concluded.
"I feel deeply thankful, Luke," said Mrs. Walton. "I can do three times the work I have been accustomed to do, and in much less time. This Mr. Afton must be a kind and charitable man."
"I like him better than his clerks," said Luke. "There is a red-headed bookkeeper and a boy there who tried to snub me, and keep me out of the office. I try to think well of red-headed people on account of Nancy, but I can't say I admire them."
After supper Luke gave his mother a lesson in operating the machine. Both found that it required a little practice.
The next morning as Luke was standing at his usual corner, he had a surprise.
A gentleman came out of the Sherman House and walked slowly up Clark Street. As he passed Luke, he stopped and asked, "Boy, have you theInter-Ocean?"
Luke looked up in his customer's face. He paused in the greatest excitement.
The man was on the shady side of fifty, nearly six feet in height, with a dark complexion, hair tinged with gray, and a wart on the upper part of his right cheek!
At last, so Luke verily believed, he stood face to face with the man who had deceived his dying father, and defrauded his mother and himself of a sum which would wholly change their positions and prospects. But he wanted to know positively, and he could not think of a way to acquire this knowledge.
Meanwhile the gentleman noticed the boy's scrutiny, and it did not please him.
"Well, boy!" he said gruffly, "you seem determined to know me again. You stare hard enough. Let me tell you this is not good manners."
"Excuse me," said Luke, "but your face looked familiar to me. I thought I had seen you before."
"Very likely you have. I come to Chicago frequently, and generally stop at the Sherman House."
"Probably that explains it," said Luke. "Are you not Mr. Thomas, of St. Louis?"
The gentleman laughed.
"You will have to try again," he said. "I am Mr. Browning, of Milwaukee. Thomas is my first name."
"Browning!" thought Luke, disappointed. "Evidently I am on the wrong track. And yet he answers father's description exactly."
"I don't know anyone in Milwaukee," he said aloud.
"Then it appears we can't claim acquaintance."
The gentleman took his paper and turned down Randolph Street toward State.
"Strange!" he soliloquized, "that boy's interest in my personal appearance. I wonder if there can be a St. Louis man who resembles me. If so, he can't be a very good-looking man. This miserable wart ought to be enough to distinguish me from anyone else."
He paused a minute, and then a new thought came into his mind.
"There is something familiar in that boy's face. I wonder who he can be. I will buy my evening papers of him, and take that opportunity to inquire."
Meanwhile Luke, to satisfy a doubt in his mind, entered the hotel, and, going up to the office, looked over the list of arrivals. He had to turn back a couple of pages and found this entry:
"THOMAS BROWNING, Milwaukee."
"His name is Browning, and he does come from Milwaukee," he said to himself. "I thought, perhaps, he might have given me a false name, though he could have no reason for doing so."
Luke felt that he must look farther for the man who had betrayed his father's confidence.
"I didn't think there could be two men of such a peculiar appearance," he reflected. "Surely there can't be three. If I meet another who answers the description I shall be convinced that he is the man I am after."
In the afternoon the same man approached Luke, as he stood on his accustomed corner.
"You may give me theMailandJournal," he said.
"Yes, sir; here they are. Three cents."
"I believe you are the boy who recognized me, or thought you did, this morning."
"Yes, sir."
"If you ever run across this Mr. Thomas, of St. Louis, present him my compliments, will you?"
"Yes, sir," answered Luke, with a smile.
"By the way, what is your name?"
"Luke Walton."
The gentleman started.
"Luke Walton!" he repeated, slowly, eying the newsboy with a still closer scrutiny.
"Yes, sir."
"It's a new name to me. Can't your father find a better business for you than selling papers?"
"My father is dead, sir."
"Dead!" repeated Browning, slowly. "That is un fortunate for you. How long has he been dead?"
"About two years."
"What did he die of?"
"I don't know, sir, exactly. He died away from home—in California."
There was a strange look, difficult to read, on the gentleman's face.
"That is a long way off," he said. "I have always thought I should like to visit California. When my business will permit I will take a trip out that way."
Here was another difference between Mr. Browning and the man of whom Luke's father had written. The stranger had never been in California.
Browning handed Luke a silver quarter in payment for the papers.
"Never mind about the change," he said, with a wave of his hand.
"Thank you, sir. You are very kind."
"This must be the son of my old California friend," Browning said to himself. "Can he have heard of the money intrusted to me? I don't think it possible, for I left Walton on the verge of death. That money has made my fortune. I invested it in land which has more than quadrupled in value. Old women say that honesty pays," he added, with a sneer; "but it is nonsense. In this case dishonesty has paid me richly. If the boy has heard anything, it is lucky that I changed my name to Browning out of deference to my wife's aunt, in return for a beggarly three thousand dollars. I have made it up to ten thousand dollars by judicious investment. My young newsboy acquaintance will find it hard to identify me with the Thomas Butler who took charge of his father's money."
If Browning had been possessed of a conscience it might have troubled him when he was brought face to face with one of the sufferers from his crime; but he was a hard, selfish man, to whom his own interests were of supreme importance.
But something happened within an hour which gave him a feeling of anxiety.
He was just coming out of the Chicago post-office, at the corner of Adams and Clark Streets, when a hand was laid upon his shoulder.
"How are you, Butler?" said a tall man, wearing a Mexican sombrero. "I haven't set eyes upon you since we were together at Gold Gulch, in California."
Browning looked about him apprehensively. Fortunately he was some distance from the corner where Luke Walton was selling papers.
"I am well, thank you," he said.
"Are you living in Chicago?"
"No; I live in Wisconsin."
"Have you seen anything of the man you used to be with so much—Walton?"
"No; he died."
"Did he, indeed? Well, I am sorry to hear that. He was a good fellow. Did he leave anything?"
"I am afraid not."
"I thought he struck it rich."
"So he did; but he lost all he made."
"How was that?"
"Poor investments, I fancy."
"I remember he told me one day that he had scraped together seven or eight thousand dollars."
Browning shrugged his shoulders. "I think that was a mistake," he said. "Walton liked to put his best foot foremost."
"You think, then, he misrepresented?"
"I think he would have found it hard to find the sum you mention."
"You surprise me, Butler. I always looked upon Walton as a singularly reliable man."
"So he was—in most things. But let me correct you on one point. You call me Butler?"
"Isn't that your name?"
"It was, but I had a reason—a good, substantial, pecuniary reason—for changing it. I am now Thomas Browning."
"Say you so? Are you engaged this evening?"
"Yes, unfortunately."
"I was about to invite you to some theater."
"Another time—thanks."
"I must steer clear of that man," thought Browning. "I won't meet him again, if I can help it."
The more Browning thought of the newsboy in whom he had so strangely recognized the son of the man whom he had so cruelly wronged, the more uneasy he felt.
"He has evidently heard of me," he soliloquized. "His father could not have been so near death as I supposed. He must have sent the boy or his mother a message about that money. If it should come to his knowledge that I am the Thomas Butler to whom his father confided ten thousand dollars which I have failed to hand over to the family, he may make it very disagreeable for me."
The fact that so many persons were able to identify him as Thomas Butler made the danger more imminent.
"I must take some steps—but what?" Browning asked himself.
He kept on walking till he found himself passing the entrance of a low poolroom. He never played pool, nor would it have suited a man of his social position to enter such a place, but that he caught sight of a young man, whose face and figure were familiar to him, in the act of going into it. He quickened his pace, and laid a hand on the young man's shoulder.
The latter turned quickly, revealing a face bearing the unmistakable marks of dissipation.
"Uncle Thomas!" he exclaimed, apparently ill at ease.
"Yes, Stephen, it is I. Where are you going?" The young man hesitated.
"You need not answer. I see you are wedded to your old amusements. Are you still in the place I got for you?"
Stephen Webb looked uneasy and shamefaced.
"I have lost my place," he answered, after a pause.
"How does it happen that you lost it?"
"I don't know. Some one must have prejudiced my employer against me."
"It is your own habits that have prejudiced him, I make no doubt."
This was true. One morning Stephen, whose besetting sin was intemperance, appeared at the office where he was employed in such a state of intoxication that he was summarily discharged. It may be explained that he was a son of Mr. Browning's only sister.
"When were you discharged?" asked his uncle.
"Last week."
"And have you tried to get another situation?"
"Yes."
"What are your prospects of success?"
"There seem to be very few openings just now, Uncle Thomas."
"The greater reason why you should have kept the place I obtained for you. Were you going to play pool in this low place?"
"I was going to look on. A man must have some amusement," said Stephen, sullenly.
"Amusement is all you think of. However, it so happens that I have something that I wish you to do."
Stephen regarded his uncle in surprise.
"Are you going to open an office in Chicago?" he asked.
"No; the service is of a different nature. It is—secret and confidential. It is, I may say, something in the detective line."
"Then I'm your man," said his nephew, brightening up.
"The service is simple, so that you will probably be qualified to do what I require."
"I've read lots of detective stories," said Stephen, eagerly. "It's just the work I should like."
"Humph! I don't think much is to be learned from detective stories. You will understand, of course, that you are not to let anyone know you are acting for me."
"Certainly. You will find that I can keep a secret."
"I leave Chicago to-morrow morning, and will give you directions before I go. Where can we have a private conference?"
"Here is an oyster house. We shall be quiet here."
"Very well! We will go in."
They entered a small room, with a sanded floor, provided with a few unpainted tables.
Stephen and his uncle went to the back of the room, and seated themselves at the rear table.
"We must order something," suggested Stephen.
"Get what you please," said Browning, indifferently.
"Two stews!" ordered Stephen. "We can talk while they are getting them ready."
"Very well! Now, for my instructions. At the corner of Clark and Randolph Streets every morning and evening you will find a newsboy selling papers."
"A dozen, you mean."
"True, but I am going to describe this boy so that you may know him. He is about fifteen, I should judge, neatly dressed, and would be considered good-looking."
"Do you know his name?"
"Yes, it is Luke Walton."
"Is he the one I am to watch?"
"You are to make his acquaintance, and find out all you can about his circumstances."
"Do you know where he lives?"
"No; that is one of the things you are to find out for me."
"What else do you want me to find out?"
"Find out how many there are in family, also how they live; whether they have anything to live on except what this newsboy earns."
"All right, Uncle Thomas. You seem to have a great deal of interest in this boy."
"That is my business," said Browning, curtly. "If you wish to work for me, you must not show too much curiosity. Never mind what my motives are. Do you understand?"
"Certainly, Uncle Thomas. It shall be as you say. I suppose I am to be paid?"
"Yes. How much salary did you receive where you were last employed?"
"Ten dollars a week."
"You shall receive this sum for the present. It is very good pay for the small service required of you."
"All right, uncle."
The stews were ready by this time. They were brought and set before Stephen and his uncle. The latter toyed with his spoon, only taking a taste or two, but Stephen showed much more appreciation of the dish, not being accustomed, like his uncle, to dining at first-class hotels.
"How am I to let you know what I find out?" asked Stephen.
"Write me at Milwaukee. I will send you further instructions from there."
"Very well, sir."
"Oh, by the way, you are never to mention me to this Luke Walton. I have my reasons."
"I will do just as you say."
"How is your mother, Stephen?"
"About the same. She isn't a very cheerful party, you know. She is always fretting."
"Has she any lodgers?"
"Yes, three, but one is a little irregular with his rent."
"Of course, I expect that you will hand your mother half the weekly sum I pay you. She has a right to expect that much help from her son."
Stephen assented, but not with alacrity, and as he had now disposed of the stew, the two rose from their seats and went outside. A few words of final instructions, and they parted.
"I wonder why Uncle Thomas takes such an interest in that newsboy," thought Stephen. "I will make it my business to find out."