FRED.
Charlie Schaeffer, a stout German boy, who was temporarily out of work, was glad of the chance of earning a quarter for himself, and started at once on his errand. Fred, quite elated at the prospect of seeing Niagara Falls, prepared for his trip. He had to carry a larger supply of stock on account of the length of the journey, and was instructed to lay in a fresh supply at Buffalo for the home trip.
He was about to enter the car at ten minutes of nine when Joshua Bascom appeared on the platform with a well-worn carpet-bag in his hand.
"Are you going back, Mr. Bascom?" asked the train boy.
"Yes," answered Joshua. "I don't want to go to no more station houses. I shan't rest easy til I'm back in Barton. You hain't seen any policeman lookin' for me, have you?"
"No; you haven't done anything wrong, have you?"
"Not as I know of, but them cops is very meddlesome. I thought that pickpocket might have set 'em on my track."
"You are safe here. This is New Jersey, and a New York policeman can't arrest you here."
"That's good," said Joshua with an air of relief. "Where are you going to-day?"
"I'm going all the way with you."
"You ain't goin' as far as Barton?"
"Yes, I am, and farther too. I'm going to Niagara."
"You don't say? And you don't have to pay a cent either?"
"No, I get paid for going."
"I wish I was goin' to Niagara with you. By hokey, wouldn't the folks stare if I was to come home and tell 'em I'd seen the Falls!"
"Can't you go?"
"No, I've spent all the money I can afford. I must wait till next year."
"Did you spend all of your money, Mr. Bascom?"
"No," chuckled Joshua. "I've only spent the fifteen dollars I got for that ring, and shall carry home the ten dollars."
"You are an able financier, Mr. Bascom. You've made your expenses, and can afford to go again. You must tell your father how you got the best of a pickpocket."
"So I will. I guess he'll think I'm smarter than he reckoned for."
At about half-past four in the afternoon, Fred was called upon to bid his country friend good-by. Looking from the door of the car, he saw Joshua climb into a hay wagon driven by an elderly man whose appearance led him to conclude that he was the "dad" to whom Joshua had frequently referred.
The sun sank, the darkness came on, but still the train sped swiftly over its iron pathway. The passengers settled back in their seats, some fell asleep, and the hum of conversation ceased. Fred too gave up his trips through the cars, and stretching himself out on a seat, closed his eyes. Presently the train came to a stop, and the conductor, putting in his head at the door, called out "Niagara Falls."
Fred rose hastily, for he had made up his mind to get out at this point. He descended from the train, and found himself on the platform of the station.
He had already selected the hotel, a small one where the rate was very moderate, and as there was no carriage representing it at the train he set out to walk. It was a small, plain-looking inn, of perhaps thirty rooms, named after the proprietor:
On the road thither he was overtaken by a stranger, whom he remembered as one of the passengers on the second car. He appeared to be about forty years of age, and though it was a warm summer evening he was muffled up about the neck.
"Are you going to stop here over night?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"You are the train boy, are you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"What hotel shall you put up at?"
"One recommended to me by the conductor—the Lynch House."
"I think I will stop there too."
"You may not like it. It is a small, cheap house."
"It doesn't matter. I am well provided with money, but I don't care for style or fashion. I am an invalid, and I prefer the quiet of a small hotel. There will be less noise and confusion."
"Very well, sir. I think that is the hotel yonder."
Such proved to be the case. It was large on the ground, but only three stories in height. Over the portico was a sign, bearing the name. It was by no means fashionable in its appearance, but looked comfortable.
Fred and the stranger entered. A sleepy-looking clerk sat behind the desk. He opened his eyes, and surveyed the late comers.
"Can you give me a room?" asked Fred.
"I would like one too," said the other.
"We've only got one room left," said the clerk. "That's a back room on the second story. Are you gentlemen in company?"
"No," answered Fred. "We are strangers to each other."
"Then I can't give but one of you a room. If you don't mind rooming together, you can both be accommodated."
"Are there two beds in a room?" asked the stranger.
"Yes."
"Then I don't object to occupying it with this young man. He is a stranger to me, but I watched him on board the train, and I am sure he is all right."
"Thank you, sir," said Fred.
"Well," said the clerk, "what does the boy say?"
Fred looked curiously at his companion. He was so muffled up that he could only see a pair of black eyes, a long sallow nose, and cheeks covered with dark whiskers. The train boy did not fancy his looks much, but could think of no good reason for declining him as a room companion. He felt that the gentleman had paid him a compliment in offering to room with him, particularly when, as he stated, he had a considerable amount of money about him. He paused a moment only, before he said, "Perhaps we may as well room together, then."
"All right! I will go up with you, as the hall boy has gone to bed. I hardly expected any guests by this late train."
The clerk took the stranger's valise—Fred had only a small paper parcel in his hand, containing a clean shirt and a collar which he had bought in Jersey City before taking passage on the train. Up one flight of stairs the clerk preceded them and paused in front of No. 21, the back room referred to. He unlocked the door, and entering, lighted the gas.
It was a room about twelve feet wide by twenty in depth. At each end was a single bedstead.
"I think you will be comfortable," said the clerk. "Is there anything you want before retiring?"
"No," answered both.
The clerk closed the door, leaving Fred alone with the stranger.
The latter sat down in one of the two chairs with which the room was provided.
"I am not sleepy," he said. "Are you?"
"Yes," answered Fred, gaping. "I am not used to late hours. Besides, I was up early this morning."
"That makes a difference. I didn't get up till eleven. I was about to propose a game of cards."
"I don't care for playing cards," said Fred. "Besides, I am sleepy."
"All right! You won't object to my sitting up awhile and reading?"
Fred would have preferred to have his companion go to bed, as he was not used to sleep with a light burning. He did not wish to be disobliging, however, and answered that he didn't mind.
The stranger took from his hand-bag a paper-covered novel, and seating himself near the gas jet, began to read.
Fred undressed himself and lay down. He remembered with a little uneasiness that he had with him the hundred dollars in gold which had been intrusted to him by the miner. He had had no opportunity as yet to deposit it in the Union Dime Savings Bank, as he had decided to do, and had not thought to leave it with his mother. He wished now that he had done so, for he was about to pass several hours in the company of a man whom he knew nothing about. Still, the man had plenty of money of his own, or at least he had said so, and was not likely therefore to be tempted to steal.
Fred took his place in bed, and looked over toward the stranger with some uneasiness.
"Are you a good sleeper?" asked his companion carelessly.
"Yes," answered Fred.
"So am I. I don't feel sleepy just at present, but presume I shall within twenty minutes. I hope I don't inconvenience you by sitting up."
"No," answered Fred slowly.
"I've got my book nearly finished—I began to read it on the train. When do you expect to go back?"
"Monday morning," Fred answered.
"That's good! We will go and see the Falls together to-morrow. Ever seen them?"
"No, sir; this is my first visit to Niagara."
"I have been here several times, so I know the ropes. I shall be glad to show you just where to go. But pardon me. I see you are sleepy. I won't say another word. Good night, and pleasant dreams!"
"Good night."
The stranger continued to read for twenty minutes. At any rate he appeared to do so. Occasionally he glanced over toward Fred's bed. The train boy meant to keep awake till his companion got ready to go to bed, but he was naturally a good sleeper, and his eyes would close in spite of him; and finally he gave up all hope of resistance, and yielded to the inevitable.
Soon his deep, regular breathing showed that he was unconscious of what was passing around him.
The stranger rose, walked cautiously to the bed, and surveyed the sleeping boy.
"How peacefully he sleeps!" he said. "He has nothing on his conscience. At his age it was the same with me. I started right, but—circumstances have been too much for me. There won't be much sleep for me to-night, for the detectives are doubtless on my track. I must get rid of one damaging piece of evidence."
He opened his valise, and, after searching a little, drew therefrom a massive gold watch rather old-fashioned in appearance, attached to a solid gold chain. Neither was new, and both had evidently been used for a considerable number of years.
"I was a fool to take these," said the stranger. "They are more likely to fasten suspicion on me than anything else. However, I have a good chance now to get rid of them."
Fred had laid his newspaper parcel on a small table near his bed. The other carefully untied the twine with which he had fastened it, and, putting the watch and chain inside the shirt, he carefully wrapped it up again, and tied it with the same cord.
"The boy will be considerably surprised he opens his bundle and discovers these," he reflected, with a smile. "He will be a little puzzled to know how they came there. Well, that is none of my business. Self-preservation is the first law of nature, and it is important I should get rid of such tell-tale clews."
This piece of business over, the stranger stretched himself and took off his coat. He was proceeding to undress when a sudden thought deterred him.
"On the whole," he said to himself, "I will go to bed as I am. I may have occasion for a sudden start. It is best to be on the safe side."
He laid his coat on the back of a chair, and putting out the gas, stretched himself on the bed. He had not thought himself sleepy, but a recumbent position brought on a drowsy feeling, and before he was well aware of it he had sunk to sleep. But his slumber was not as sound or restful as the train boy's. From time to time he uttered ejaculations, as if he were terror-stricken, and once he waked up with a cold perspiration on his brow. It took a minute for him to realize his position.
"What a fool I am!" he muttered in disgust. "I thought the police had nabbed me, but all's safe so far. If I could only get a little more sleep—as sound and peaceful as that boy is enjoying—I should wake revived in the morning. There is no reason why I shouldn't. They can't have got on my track so soon."
He closed his eyes, and succeeded in dispelling the uneasy feeling which sprang from the consciousness of having exposed himself to the danger of arrest. It was now three o'clock. In fifteen minutes he was sleeping again, and this time his slumbers were less disturbed and uneasy. He awoke suddenly to find the sun streaming into the room.
"It must be late!" he thought, a little nervously.
But on examining his watch he found that it was only six o'clock.
"I may as well get up," he said to himself. "I shall be safer on the Canada side. I don't want to wake the boy, for he might be tempted to get up with me. Besides, if he opened his bundle, the sight of the watch might arouse his suspicions, and get me into trouble. Fortunately I did not undress, and can be up and away in two minutes."
He put on his coat, and descended to the office.
"You are down early," said the clerk in some surprise.
"Yes. I want to see the Falls and take an early train West. How much is my bill?"
He was told, and laid the money on the desk.
"The boy with you remains?"
"Yes, I suppose so. The boy is no acquaintance of mine. I only met him on the train. There is something about that boy that excites my curiosity," he added thoughtfully.
"Such as what?" asked the clerk, his curiosity aroused.
"He seems to have something on his mind. His sleep was very much disturbed. He moved about a good deal, and muttered frequently, but I could not make out any words."
"Perhaps he has run away from home," suggested the clerk.
The stranger shrugged his shoulders.
"He may have had good reasons for running away," he said. "However, that is none of my business. I suppose you missed nothing during the night."
"No. Good morning."
The stranger went out, directing his steps toward the Falls.
An hour later a quiet-looking man entered the office.
"Good morning, Mr. Ferguson," said the clerk. "What brings you here so early?"
"Business," answered the other briefly. "Did you have any late arrivals last evening?"
"Yes; two."
"Who were they?"
"A man and boy."
"Are they here still?"
"The boy is up-stairs. The man left at six o'clock. He wanted to see the Falls before taking an early train. He said the boy seemed very nervous, and had a troubled sleep."
The detective nodded. "I think he must be the party I want."
"Why, what has happened?"
"The house of a wealthy old gentleman in Elmira was entered yesterday afternoon, and articles of value taken. I received a telegram this morning which should have reached me last night, asking me to be on the watch for any suspicious parties."
"And you think the boy committed the burglary?" asked the clerk in excitement.
"It looks like it. With your permission I will go up-stairs and take a look at him."
About ten minutes before the arrival of the detective Fred woke up. He generally awoke earlier, but his long ride of the day before had fatigued him more than usual. It was natural for him to glance over to the opposite bed, occupied by his traveling companion. He was surprised to find it empty.
"He must have got up early," thought Fred. "I wonder if he has gone for good."
This seemed likely, for the stranger's valise had disappeared also.
"I wonder he didn't wake me up and bid me good-by," thought the train boy.
Then a momentary suspicion led him to search for the hundred dollars in gold which he had carefully concealed in his inside vest pocket. If that were taken, he would be in a quandary, for there would be little chance of his being able to make up the loss to his friend, the Western miner.
He found, to his relief, that the gold had not been touched, and he reproached himself for the injustice he had in his thoughts, done his late room-mate.
"Well," soliloquized Fred, as he lazily got out of bed and drew on his clothes, "I am not sorry to have the room alone. If I could have a friend from home with me I should like it, but I don't care for the company of a stranger."
Fred reflected that he had all the day to himself. He could hear the roar of the famous cataract, which he had not yet seen on account of his late arrival the night before, and he determined to go there immediately after breakfast, or even before breakfast if he found that it was quite near. He went to the window and looked out, but it was not in sight.
"I may as well put on a clean shirt," thought Fred, and he went to the table to open the bundle which he had brought from Jersey City. He had just unfastened the string when a quick, imperative knock was heard at the door of his room.
"Come in!" said Fred, with some surprise.
He turned his face to the door, and his wonder increased as it opened and he saw the clerk and a stranger standing on the threshold. They entered the room and closed the door behind them.
"What is the matter?" asked the train boy. "Has anything happened?"
"When did your room-mate leave?" asked the detective, not answering his question.
"I don't know; I only just woke up."
"Did you rest well?"
"That's a very queer question to ask me," thought Fred. "Yes," he answered, "I rested very well."
The detective and the clerk exchanged glances. This statement did not accord with what Fred's room-mate had said down-stairs.
"The bed was very comfortable," added Fred by way of compliment to the house.
"I am glad you found it so," said the detective dryly.
"Did you come upstairs to ask how I rested?' asked Fred, with a smile.
"You are sharp, my young friend," said the detective, "and I think I may say wonderfully cool under the circumstances."
"Under what circumstances?" asked Fred, his attention drawn to the last part of the detective's speech.
"There was a burglary committed yesterday afternoon in Elmira," said the detective, fastening his eyes keenly on the face of the train boy.
"Was there?" asked Fred, not seeing in what way this information was likely to affect him. "I thought most burglaries were committed in the night."
"They are, generally, but this was an exception. There was no one in the house except old Mr. Carver, who is quite hard of hearing. The burglary probably took place about five o'clock, and the burglar is supposed to have taken the 5:51 train from Elmira."
"Why, that is the train I was on," said Fred in surprise.
"By a curious coincidence," said the detective with a queer smile, "it was by your train that the burglar probably traveled."
His tone was so significant that Fred asked quickly, "What do you mean?"
"I mean, my young friend," said the detective, "that you are suspected to know something of this affair."
"If you are a detective," retorted Fred, "I don think much of your sharpness. I have never been in Elmira in my life."
"Probably not," said Ferguson, the detective, with a provoking smile.
"I passed through there yesterday on my way from New York. With that exception, I never saw the place."
"That may be true," said the detective cautiously, "or it may not. I will take the liberty of examining your luggage to see if I can find any of the stolen articles."
"You are welcome to do it," said Fred.
"Bring it out then. Where have you put it—under the bed?"
"All the luggage I have is in this bundle," said the train boy. "You can open that if you think it will do you any good."
"You are sure you have no valise?"
Ferguson, who, like most of his class, was suspicious, peeped under each bed, but found nothing to reward his search. Somewhat disappointed, he went to the table and opened the newspaper bundle. He did so listlessly, not really expecting to find anything, but as he unrolled Fred's shirt there was a triumphant look in his eyes when he uncovered the gold watch and chain.
"Just as I thought," he said, with a nod to the clerk.
"What is that?' gasped Fred.
"It appears to be a watch and chain," answered Ferguson coolly. "Possibly you can tell me how it came there."
"I know nothing about it," said Fred in dire amazement.
"You do not claim it as yours, then?"
"Certainly not. I never saw it before in my life."
"Is this shirt yours?"
"Yes."
"You brought it with you?"
"Yes."
"Let me open the watch. Do you see this inscription?"
Fred and the clerk approached, and on the inside of the case read the name, "Philo Carver, Elmira, 1865."
"You see? This is one of the articles stolen from Mr. Carver's house yesterday afternoon. It is a little odd that this young man in whose bundle I find it cannot explain its presence."
"You may believe me or not," said Fred desperately, "but it is true all the same. I know nothing of this watch or chain, and I never saw either before. Can you tell me what other articles were taken by the burglar?"
"Some government bonds, and a small sum of bank bills."
"Then you had better search for them also here: I will help you all I can."
"Well, you are a cool hand."
"No; I am innocent, that is all."
"It is pretty clear you have nothing else with you, or you wouldn't be so willing. However, I consider it my duty to do as you suggest."
He hunted under the mattresses, and finally examined Fred's pockets. At last he felt in the inside vest pocket and drew out the gold coins.
"Ha, we have something here!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," answered Fred, "but those happen to belong to me."
"Where did you get them?"
"From a friend in New York. He intrusted them to me to use if I needed. Meanwhile I was to put them in the savings bank."
"Not a very likely story," said the detective suspiciously.
"Likely or not, it is a true story. Does this man Carver claim to have lost any gold coins?"
"No."
"I thought not."
"However, we come back to the inquiry—where did you get the watch?"
"The man who slept in the room with me must have left it here to throw suspicion on me," said Fred, with sudden inspiration.
"That is possible," said the clerk, who was favorably impressed by Fred's manner.
"We must not jump at conclusions," said the detective warily. "I shall feel justified in detaining the boy after what I have found."
"You won't take me to the station house?" said Fred nervously.
"No; it will answer the purpose if you are locked up in this room—for the present."
"Then," said Fred, turning to the clerk, "I shall be much obliged if you will send me up some breakfast."
"It shall be done."
Within half an hour Fred was discussing a beefsteak and fried potatoes with hearty enjoyment. It takes a good deal to spoil the appetite of a healthy boy of seventeen.
After breakfast Fred became restless. It was tantalizing to be so near the Falls, and yet to be locked up, and prevented from seeing them. Of course it would all come right in time, but it was hard to bear the suspense and confinement. Hunting round the room he found a juvenile book, and sitting down at the window read it. It helped to while away the time till twelve o'clock. He had scarcely read the last page when he heard the key turning in the lock outside. The door opened and two persons appeared at the entrance. One was the clerk the other a boy, rather short, with a bright, attractive face.
"I thought you might like company," said the clerk in a friendly manner. "This is my young cousin, Frank Hamblin, who will remain with yon for a while."
"I am glad to see you, Frank," said Fred offering his hand. "You are very kind to come and see a bold, bad burglar."
"You don't look much like it," said Frank, laughing. "Still appearances are deceitful."
"I don't think I look wicked," said Fred meditatively, as he glanced at his reflection in a small mirror that hung over the washstand. "Yet it appears that I have broken into a gentleman's house in Elmira, and stolen a gold watch and chain and some government bonds."
"How could you do it?" asked Frank with much seriousness. "So young and yet so wicked!"
"That's the question that puzzles me," said Fred. "How could I do it when at the time the burglary was committed I was speeding over the Erie road at the rate of thirty miles an hour?"
"Can you prove this?" asked Frank eagerly.
"Certainly I could, if the conductor or brakeman of my car were here."
"Where are they?"
"Probably on their way back to New York."
"Do you live there?"
"Yes."
"I have always wanted to see the city of New York. It must be a gay place."
"You are right there, Frank. Whenever you do come, just inquire for Fred Fenton, and I will show you round. There is my address."
"Thank you! I should like it ever so much. Have you ever been here before?"
"No. I wanted very much to see the Falls, but here I am locked up in a hotel chamber. I wish the Falls were visible from the window."
"They are on the other side of the house."
"Do you know this detective—the one that searched me?"
"Yes, I have seen him. I heard him tell my cousin that he did not believe you guilty, but that finding the watch and chain in your bundle was a suspicious circumstance."
"I suppose it is. Now I can understand how innocent people get into trouble. Do you live here?"
"No, I am only visiting some friends here. I live in Auburn."
"That's where the State's prison is, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Then I hope I shan't go to Auburn to live. Have you any idea how long I shall have to stay here?"
"Till evening, I suppose. You will probably be brought before a justice in the morning," was Frank's reply.
Fred sighed.
"How differently things have turned out from what I anticipated," he said. "I expected to be walking round, and looking at the Falls to-day."
"Hold on a minute!" said Frank. "Mr. Ferguson boards here, and he may be down-stairs now. I'll ask him if you can't go out under my charge if you'll promise not to run away.
"I'll promise that fast enough. You can knock me down if I attempt to escape."
"I am afraid I might find that difficult, as you are at least two inches taller than I."
"I will be very gentle and submissive. I wouldn't be willing to run away with such a suspicion hanging over me."
"Excuse me a minute! I'll do what I can for you."
Frank went to the door and attempted to open it, but it was locked on the outside and resisted his efforts.
"I forgot," he said, laughing, "that I am a prisoner too. Really it makes a fellow feel queer to be locked up."
"That's the way I feel. You can ring the bell, can't you?"
"A good thought!"
Frank rang the bell, and presently a hall boy opened the door about an inch, and looked in.
"Is anything wanted?" he asked.
"Is Mr. Ferguson down-stairs?" said Frank.
"He has just come in."
"Won't you ask him to step up here a minute?"
"All right, sir."
The door was relocked, but two minutes later it was opened and the detective walked in.
"Ha!" he said. "So we have two burglars instead of one."
"I am just as much a burglar as Fred is," said Frank.
"Then," said the detective with a smile, "I may feel it my duty to search you. You do have rather a hardened expression."
"Do you think I have?" asked Fred smiling.
"Well, no. I wouldn't pick you out for a professional criminal, and to be honest with you, I doubt whether you know anything of the burglary."
"Thank you! I am glad you have a better opinion of me than that."
"But what is it you want of me, Frank?"
"I want Fred to have a chance to see the Falls. He has never been here before, and it will be a great disappointment to him if he has to go away without seeing them."
"To be sure, to be sure!" said the detective thoughtfully.
"I thought you might let him go out under my escort."
Mr. Ferguson smiled.
"What could you do if he took it into his head to escape?"
"You couldn't lend me a club, could you?"
"I don't carry any. That is for policemen, and I have never acted in that capacity."
"But he won't run away, will you, Fred?"
"No, I prefer to stay here till I am cleared of suspicion."
"You see, Mr. Ferguson," said Frank, eagerly, "there will be no risk about it. He can give you hisparole—that's the word, isn't it?"
"Yes; but this privilege is never accorded to those who are arrested for burglary."
"It is certainly inconvenient to be a burglar," said Fred, smiling in spite of his secret anxiety.
"Then you can't let him go?" questioned Frank, regretfully.
"Well, there is one way. I should not consider it safe to let him go with you, but I might accompany you."
"That will be capital! You will, won't you?"
"Yes, I will," said Ferguson, after a momentary pause. "I have a boy of my own about the age of—the young burglar—and that perhaps inclines me to be more indulgent. But you must wait till after dinner."
"Will dinner be sent up here?" asked Frank.
"Yes, for him; but you are not staying at the house."
"I forgot; and I haven't got money enough to pay for a hotel dinner."
"That's all right, Frank," said Fred. "I invite you to dine with me, and it shall be charged on my bill. I shall enjoy dinner better if I have company."
"Thank you. I accept the invitation, but I don't like to be an expense to you."
"Never mind."
Dinner was sent up in the course of half an hour, and the two boys enjoyed it.
"Are you still attending school, Frank?" asked Fred.
"Yes."
"I should like to, but poor boys like me have to work for a living."
"If you won't tell I will let you into a secret."
"What is it?"
"I am writing a long story. I want to be an author some time. I've written twenty chapters already."
"You must be smart," said Fred in surprise. "Why, I couldn't write as much in a whole year."
"Of course I can't tell whether it is good for anything, but some time I mean to write well."
"Well, Frank, I wish you success, I am sure. Some day I may be proud to know you."
"Now I might write a story about you, and call it 'The Boy Burglar.'"
"Don't! I have no wish to figure in that character."
Half an hour later the door opened, and the detective entered, dressed for a walk.
"Now, if you two burglars are ready," he said, "we will take a stroll."
"What was the name of your room-mate, Fred?" asked Frank Hamblin, as they went down-stairs.
"I didn't notice. He registered before me."
"Suppose we look and see. It may be well to know."
They opened the hotel register, and saw written in a bold, free hand:
"It may be another Fred," suggested Frank.
"Or Frank. Either name would do for a burglar," said Mr. Ferguson, smiling. "But it is hardly consistent with professional etiquette to joke on such a subject. I will endeavor to forget while we are walking together that one of the party is an offender against the laws, or under suspicion as such."
"I want to forget it myself," said Fred, "or it will spoil my enjoyment of Niagara."
"I wonder where Mr. F. Grant Palmer is now," said Frank. "I feel sure he is the real burglar."
"Then he has probably gone over into Canada," returned Fred. "It is unlucky for me that he left the watch and chain, but lucky for Mr. Carver, who will now recover them."
Meanwhile let us follow Mr. Palmer, whose movements are of interest to us in connection with the suspicion he has managed to throw on Fred. When he left the Lynch House he proposed, as a measure of safety, to go over to the Canada side, and indeed he did so. He made his way to the Clifton House, and registered there, depositing his valise at the office while he went in to breakfast.
"We have no room at present," said the clerk, politely, "but by the middle of the forenoon we shall undoubtedly have a few vacancies. Will that answer?"
"Oh, yes," said Palmer easily. "I am in no special hurry for a room, but will take breakfast and go out for a walk."
It did occur to Mr. Palmer that the valise, containing as it did the bonds stolen from Mr. Carver in Elmira, should be carefully guarded. However, it would surely be as safe in the care of the hotel clerk of the Clifton as in any hotel room, and probably even safer. So he ate breakfast with an easy mind, and then, purchasing a cigar, took a walk along the road which presents the best views of the Falls.
Mr. Palmer felt very complacent.
"It is a blessing to gentlemen in my profession," he soliloquized, "that Canada is so conveniently near. Here the minions of the law cannot touch us for any little indiscretion committed under the stars and stripes. I hear people talking of annexing Canada to the States, but to that I am unalterably opposed. I should have to retire from business, and I am not able to do that at present."
He was standing at a convenient point surveying the Falls, when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Such was the force of habit that Mr. Palmer started violently, and turned round nervously.
It was a stout man with a smiling face that confronted him.
"Ha, Palmer!" said the new arrival. "Did you mistake me for——"
"How are you, Wellington? I am glad to see you."
"Instead of——"
"Oh, pshaw! A man naturally starts when he is tapped on the shoulder unexpectedly."
"I see. You were admiring the Falls."
"Yes."
"There is a good deal of romance in your composition, my dear Palmer," said his friend banteringly. "Anything new?"
"Well, yes," said Palmer, glancing around him cautiously.
"Made a strike, eh?"
"Well, something of the sort."
"What is it?"
"I managed to have a stroke of luck at Elmira, yesterday afternoon."
"How much did you get away with?"
"Hush! don't speak so plainly. Suppose any one should hear you?"
"My dear fellow, there is no one within two hundred yards."
"Well, there must be five thousand dollars in bonds and money."
"Very neat, upon my word! You are in luck!"
"How about you?"
"I made a small raise at Buffalo—a paltry three hundred dollars' worth. It was hardly worth the trouble of taking. Still, a man must live."
"To be sure!"
"Now with what you picked up you can live a year or two in comfort. Upon my soul, I envy you. Are you suspected?"
"I have managed to divert suspicion, I think;" and Palmer told his friend the story of his secreting the gold watch and chain in Fred's luggage.
"Very shrewd!" said his friend approvingly. "Palmer, you are a credit to our profession. I shall be content to take lessons of you."
"Oh, you are only joking," said Palmer, his expression showing, however, that he felt proud of the compliment.
They took a long and leisurely walk together, talking over their mutual experiences. They had known each other for ten years, having been fellow boarders together as far back as that at Sing Sing, since then neither had been caught, though both had been engaged in violating the laws. Their similar professions had given them a common bond of sympathy, and they found so much satisfaction in each other's company that the time slipped by insensibly, and it was half-past twelve before they found their way back to the Clifton.
Mr. Palmer stepped up to the desk.
"Have you a room for me yet?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir; I can give you No. 67. Here, front!"
A hall boy answered the summons.
"Take the gentleman up to 67," said the clerk.
"Any luggage, sir?"
"You may hand me my valise, if you please."
"Beg pardon; here it is."
"Come up with me, Wellington. We'll continue our talk up stairs."
Palmer merely glanced at the valise, and continued talking with his friend. The hall boy unlocked the door of No. 67 and led the way inside.
It was a pleasant room, and Palmer looked about him approvingly.
"I shall be very comfortable here," he said.
"Is everything right?" asked the hall boy, lingering.
Palmer smiled, drew a quarter from his pocket and put it into the ready hand of the young man.
"You take American coins, don't you?" he asked with a smile.
"Oh, dear, yes, sir. Thank you!"
"That is all for the present. If I want anything I will ring."
Wellington scanned the valise with an eye of interest.
"So that holds the swag, does it?" he asked.
"My dear friend, don't use such vulgar terms!" said Palmer reproachfully. "It's not only inelegant, but it's imprudent. Suppose anybody heard you?"
"Your reproof is just, Palmer. I am rather a blunderer, I admit. I see you are traveling under a false name."
"What do you mean?"
Wellington pointed to a small card attached to the valise. It bore the name of Edmund Lawrence.
When Palmer's glance fell on this card, a quick glance of dismay swept over his face.
"That isn't my valise!" he said.
"Not your valise!"
"No. The clerk has made a mistake. I must see him at once!" continued Palmer, in an agitated voice. "He may have given my valise to this man Lawrence, and in that case I am ruined. Stay here till I return."
Palmer seized the satchel, opened the door, and descended to the office in breathless haste. As he dashed up to the desk the clerk eyed him in mild surprise.
"What is the matter?" he asked.
"Matter enough! You have given me the wrong valise."
"Is it possible?"
"See here; this belongs to a party named Lawrence—Edmund Lawrence. Give me mine at once."
The clerk looked troubled.
"I am afraid I can't," he faltered apologetically. "I gave Mr. Lawrence your valise—you will observe that they are very much alike—and he carried it away two hours since."
Palmer felt ready to drop. To think that after all his careful planning everything should be jeopardized by a hotel clerk's error.
"Do you know what you have done?" he said, in a hollow voice. "My valise contained two thousand dollars' worth of securities."
"I am terribly sorry, Mr. Palmer, but I don't think you will suffer any loss. This Mr. Lawrence looks like a high-toned gentleman. You can see him within an hour. He went from here to the International Hotel on the American side of the Falls. I advise you to go over at once, take his bag with you, and exchange."