"This is Mrs. Carlin. She owes six dollars rent, and only brings three dollars and a half."

"How is this, Mrs. Carlin?" inquired Mr. Fairchild, for this was he.

Mrs. Carlin repeated her story of Jimmy's illness and her consequent inability to pay the whole rent.

"When do you think Jimmy will get well?" asked the agent, kindly.

"He's gettin' better fast, sir. I think he'll be able to go to work by Wednesday. If you'll only wait a little while, sir——"

"How long have you been paying rent here?" asked Mr. Fairchild.

"This is the third year, sir."

"And have you ever been in arrears before?"

"No, sir."

"Then you deserve consideration. Mr. Mullins, give Mrs. Carlin a receipt on account, and she will pay the balance as soon as she can."

"Thank you, sir. May the saints reward you, sir! Shure, I told this gentleman that you'd make it all right with me. He was very hard with me."

"Mr. Mullins," said the agent, sternly, "I have before now told you that our customers are to be treated with consideration and kindness."

David Mullins did not reply, but he dug his pen viciously into the paper on which he was writing a receipt, and scowled, but as his back was turned to his employer, the latter did not see it.

When Mrs. Carlin had left the office, Chester thought it best to introduce himself.

"I am Chester Rand, from Wyncombe," he said. "Mr. Conrad came round to introduce me, but you were not in."

"Ah, yes, you have come to be my office boy. I am glad to see you and hope you will like the city. Mr. Mullins, you will set this boy to work."

"He told me he was to work here, but as you had not mentioned it I thought there must be some mistake. He says he doesn't know much about the city."

"Neither did I when I first came here from a country town."

"It will be rather inconvenient, sir. Now, my cousin whom I mentioned to you is quite at home all over the city."

"I am glad to hear it. He will find this knowledge of service—in some other situation," added Mr. Fairchild, significantly.

David Mullins bit his lip and was silent. He could not understand why Felix Gordon, his cousin, had failed to impress Mr. Fairchild favorably. He had not noticed that Felix entered the office with a cigarette in his mouth, which he only threw away when he was introduced to the real estate agent.

"I'll have that boy out of this place within a month, or my name isn't David Mullins," he said to himself.

Chester could not read what was passing through his mind, but he felt instinctively that the bookkeeper was his enemy.



CHAPTER XIII.

MR. MULLINS, THE BOOKKEEPER.

Chester felt that it was necessary to be on his guard. The bookkeeper was already his enemy. There were two causes for this. First, Mr. Mullins was naturally of an ugly disposition, and, secondly, he was disappointed in not securing the situation for his cousin.

At noon the latter made his appearance. He was a thin, dark-complexioned boy, with curious-looking eyes that somehow inspired distrust.

He walked up to the desk where the book keeper was writing.

"Good-morning, Cousin David," he said.

"Good-morning, Felix. Sit down for a few minutes, and I will take you out to lunch."

"All right!" answered Felix. "Who's that boy?" he inquired, in a low voice.

"The new office boy. Wait till we go out, and I will tell you about it."

In five minutes David Mullins put on his hat and coat and went out with his cousin.

"Stay here and mind the office," he said to Chester, "and if anybody comes in, keep them, if possible. If any tenant comes to pay money, take it and give a receipt."

"All right, sir."

When they were in the street, Felix asked:

"Where did you pick up the boy? Why didn't I get the place?"

"You must ask Mr. Fairchild that. He engaged him without consulting me."

"What sort of a boy is he?"

"A country gawky. He knows nothing of the city."

"Is he a friend of Mr. Fairchild?"

"Fairchild never met him before. Some beggarly artist interceded for him."

"It is too bad I can't be in the office. It would be so nice to be in the same place with you."

"I did my best, but Fairchild didn't seem to fancy you. I think he took a prejudice against you on account of your smoking cigarettes. He must have seen you with one."

"Does the new boy smoke cigarettes?"

"I don't know. That gives me an idea. You had better get intimate with him and offer him cigarettes. He doesn't know Mr. Fairchild's prejudice, and may fall into the trap."

"How can I get acquainted with him?"

"I'll see to that. I shall be sending him out on an errand presently, and you can offer to go with him."

"That'll do. But you must buy me a package of cigarettes."

"Very well. My plan is to have the boy offend Mr. Fairchild's prejudices, and that may make a vacancy for you. By the way, never let him see you smoking."

"I won't, but as he is not about, I'll smoke a cigarette now."

"Better wait till after lunch."

About ten minutes after Mr. Mullins left the office, a man of forty—evidently a mechanic—entered.

"Is the bookkeeper in?" he asked.

"He's gone to lunch."

"He sent me a bill for this month's rent, which I have already paid."

"Please give me your name."

"James Long."

"And where do you live?"

The address was given—a house on East Twentieth Street.

"Haven't you the receipt?" asked Chester.

"No."

"Didn't Mr. Mullins give you one?"

"Yes; but I carelessly left it on the table. I suppose he found it and kept the money," he added, bitterly.

"But that would be a mean thing to do," said Chester, startled.

"Nothing is too mean for Mullins," said Long. "He's a hard man and a tricky one."

"He will come in soon if you can wait."

"I can't. I am at work, and this is my noon hour."

"I will tell him what you say——"

"Perhaps I may have a chance to call in this afternoon. I feel worried about this matter, for, although it is only ten dollars, that is a good deal to a man with a family, and earning only twelve dollars a week."

Presently Mr. Mullins returned.

"Has anybody been in?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Chester. "A man named James Long."

A curious expression came into the bookkeeper's eye.

"Well, did he pay his rent?"

"No; he said he had paid it already."

"Oh, he did, did he?" sneered the bookkeeper. "In that case, of course he has the receipt."

"No; he said he had left it here on the table, and did not think of it till some time afterwards."

"A likely story. He must think I am a fool. Even a boy like you can see through that."

"He seemed to me like an honest man."

"Oh, well, you are from the country, and could not be expected to know. We have some sharp swindlers in New York."

Chester was quite of that opinion, but he was beginning to think that the description would apply better to David Mullins than to James Long.

"By the way, Chester," said Mr. Mullins, with unusual blandness, "this is my cousin, Felix Gordon."

"Glad to meet you," said Felix, with an artificial smile.

Chester took the extended hand. He was not especially drawn to Felix, but felt that it behooved him to be polite.

"You boys must be somewhere near the same age," said the bookkeeper. "I will give you a chance to become acquainted. Chester, I want you to go to number four seventy-one Bleecker Street. I suppose you don't know where it is?"

"No, sir."

"Felix, go with him and show him the way."

Chester was quite amazed at this unusual and unexpected kindness on the part of a man whom he had regarded as an enemy. Was it possible that he had misjudged him?

The two boys went out together.

When they were fairly in the street, Felix produced his package of cigarettes.

"Have one?" he asked.

"No, thank you; I don't smoke."

"Don't smoke!" repeated Felix, in apparent amusement. "You don't mean that?"

"I never smoked a cigarette in my life."

"Then it's high time you learned. All boys smoke in the city."

"I don't think I should like it."

"Oh, nonsense! Just try one for my sake."

"Thank you, Felix. You are very kind, but I promised mother I wouldn't smoke."

"Your mother lives in the country, doesn't she?"

"Yes."

"Then she won't know it."

"That will make no difference. I made the promise, and I mean to keep it," said Chester, firmly.

"Oh, well, suit yourself. What a muff he is!" thought Felix. "However, he'll soon break over his virtuous resolutions. Do you know," he continued, changing the subject, "that you have got the situation I was after?"

"I think I heard Mr. Mullins say something about it. I am sorry if I have stood in your way."

"Oh, if it hadn't been you it would have been some other boy. How do you think you shall like the city?"

"Very much, I think."

"What pay do you get?"

"Five dollars a week."

"You can't live on that."

"I will try to."

"Of course, it is different with me. I should have lived at home. You'll have to run into debt."

"I will try not to."

"Where do you live?"

"I am staying with a friend—Mr. Conrad, an artist—just now, but I shall soon get a boarding place."

"I live on Eighty-sixth Street—in a flat. My father is in the custom house."

"How long has your cousin—Mr. Mullins—been in this office?"

"About five years. He's awfully smart, cousin David is. It's he that runs the business. Mr. Fairchild is no sort of a business man."

Chester wondered how, under the circumstances, Mr. Mullins should not have influence enough to secure the situation of office boy for Felix.

They soon reached Bleecker Street. Chester took notice of the way in order that he might know it again. He was sharp and observing, and meant to qualify himself for his position as soon as possible.

At five o'clock the office was vacated. Chester remained to sweep up. A piece of paper on the floor attracted his attention. He picked it up and found, to his surprise, that it was James Long's missing receipt. It was on the floor of the clothes closet, and he judged that it had dropped from the bookkeeper's pocket.

What should he do with it?



CHAPTER XIV.

THE TABLES TURNED.

Under ordinary circumstances, Chester would have handed the receipt to the bookkeeper, but he was convinced that it was the purpose of Mr. Mullins to defraud the tenant out of a month's rent, and he felt that it would not be in the interest of the latter for him to put this power in the hands of the enemy. Obviously the receipt belonged to James Long, who had lost it.

Fortunately, Chester had the address of the mechanic on East Twentieth Street, and he resolved, though it would cost him quite a walk, to call and give him the paper. In twenty minutes after locking the office he found himself in front of a large tenement house, which was occupied by a great number of families. He found that Long lived on the third floor back.

He knocked at the door. It was opened to him by a woman of forty, who had a babe in her arms, while another—a little girl—was holding onto her dress.

"Does Mr. James Long live here?" asked Chester.

"Yes."

"Is he at home?"

"No, but I am expecting him home from work every minute. Will you come in, or shall I give him your message?"

"Perhaps I had better see him, if it won't inconvenience you."

"Oh, no, if you will excuse my poor rooms," said Mrs. Long, pleasantly.

"I am poor myself, and am not used to fine rooms."

"Take the rocking-chair," said Mrs. Long, offering him the best chair in the room. "If you will excuse me, I will go on preparing my husband's supper."

"Certainly. Shall I take the baby?"

"Oh, I wouldn't like to trouble you."

"I like babies."

Chester had seen that the baby's face was clean, and that it looked attractive. Babies know their friends instinctively, and this particular baby was soon in a frolic with its young guardian.

"I guess you are used to babies," said the mother, pleased.

"No, I am the only baby in my family, but I am fond of children."

I may remark here that manly boys generally do like children, and I haven't much respect for those who will tease or tyrannize over them.

In ten minutes a heavy step was heard on the stairs, and James Long entered. His face was sober, for, after his interview with Chester Rand—he had not had time for a second call—he began to fear that he should have to pay his month's rent over again, and this to him would involve a severe loss.

He looked with surprise at Chester, not immediately recognizing him.

"I come from Mr. Fairchild's office," explained Chester.

"Oh, yes; I remember seeing you there. Has the receipt been found?" he added, eagerly.

"Yes."

James Long looked very much relieved.

"I am very glad," he sighed. "Mr. Mullins wouldn't have believed me. What does he say now?"

"He doesn't know that the receipt is found."

"How is that?" asked the mechanic, puzzled.

"I found it after Mr. Mullins went away."

"Where did you find it?"

"In the clothes closet, just under where Mr. Mullins hangs his coat," added Chester, significantly.

"And you bring it to me?"

"Yes, it belongs to you. Besides, after what I heard, I didn't dare to trust it in the hands of the bookkeeper."

"I see you think the same of him as I do."

"I don't like him."

"You think he meant to cheat me?"

"It looks like it."

"I am all right now. What do you think I had better do?"

"Come round to-morrow, but don't show the receipt unless Mr. Fairchild is in the office. He is a very different man from Mr. Mullins. The bookkeeper might still play a trick upon you?"

"I believe you're right. Shall I tell him how you found and gave me back the receipt?"

"No; let Mr. Mullins puzzle over it. It is fortunate he didn't destroy the receipt, or you would have had no resource."

"You're a smart boy, and I'll take your advice. How long have you been in the office?"

"This is my first day," answered Chester, smiling.

"Well, well! I couldn't have believed it. You will make a smart business man. You've been a good friend to James Long, and he won't forget it. I say, wife, perhaps this young gentleman will stay to supper."

"Thank you," answered Chester. "I would, but I am to meet a friend uptown at six o'clock. It is so late," he added, looking at the clock on the mantel, "that I must go at once."

When Chester met his friend the artist, he told him of what had happened.

"That Mullins is evidently a rascal, and a very mean one," said Mr. Conrad. "If I were going to defraud anyone, it wouldn't be a poor mechanic."

"Mr. Mullins has already taken a dislike to me. If he should discover that I have found the receipt and given it to Mr. Long, he would hate me even worse."

"You must look out for him. He will bear watching."

"I wish he were more like Mr. Fairchild. He seems a fair, honorable man."

"He is. I don't understand why he should employ such a fellow as Mullins."

"Perhaps he hasn't found him out."

"Mullins will find it hard to explain this matter. Let me know how it comes out. I suppose Long will call at the office to-morrow?"

"Yes; I advised him to."

The next day, about twenty minutes after twelve, James Long entered the office. He looked about him anxiously, and, to his relief, saw that Mr. Fairchild was present. He went up to the table where the broker was seated.

"I came about my rent," he said.

"You can speak to Mr. Mullins," said the broker, going on with his writing.

"I would rather speak with you, sir."

"How is that?" asked Mr. Fairchild, his attention excited.

"I will tell you, sir," said the bookkeeper, with an ugly look. "This man came here yesterday and declined to pay his rent, because, he said, he had paid it already."

"And I had," said Long, quietly. "I am a mechanic on small wages, and I can't afford to pay my rent twice."

"Did you pay the rent to Mr. Mullins?"

"Yes, sir."

"When?"

"Day before yesterday."

"Then he gave you a receipt?"

"He did, sir."

"It seems to me that than settles the question. Did you give him a receipt, Mr. Mullins?"

"If I had, he could show it now. He says that he left it behind in the office here. Of course, that's too thin!"

"It is very important to take good care of your receipt, Mr. Long."

"Did you ever lose or mislay a receipt, sir?"

"Yes, I have on two or three occasions."

"So that I am not the only one to whom it has happened."

"Mr. Mullins, did Mr. Long come to the office on the day when he says he paid the rent?"

"Yes, sir."

"And he didn't pay it?"

"No, sir. He said he hadn't the money, but would bring it in a few days."

James Long listened in indignant astonishment.

"That is untrue, sir. I made no excuse, but handed Mr. Mullins the amount in full."

"There is a very extraordinary discrepancy in your statements. You say that he wrote out a receipt?"

"Yes, sir."

"It is a pity that you can't produce it."

"Yes," chimed in Mullins, with a sneer, "it is unlucky that you cannot produce it."

Then came a sensation.

"I can produce it," said Long. "The receipt has been found," and he drew out the slip of paper and passed it to Mr. Fairchild.

The face of Mullins was a study. His amazement was deep and genuine.

"It must be a forgery," he said. "Mr. Long can't possibly have a receipt."

"You are mistaken," said Mr. Fairchild. "The receipt and the signature are genuine, and it is written on one of our letter heads."

Mullins took the receipt and faltered:

"I don't understand it."

"Nor do I," said the broker, sternly. "Did you make any entry on the books?"

"I—I don't remember."

"Show me the record."

Mr. Fairchild opened the book, and saw an entry made, but afterward erased.

When the bookkeeper found the receipt on the table, a promising piece of rascality was suggested to him. He would keep the money himself, and conceal the record.

"Mr. Long," said the broker, "here is your receipt. It is clear that you have paid your rent. You will have no more trouble."

Then, as the mechanic left the office, the broker, turning to the bookkeeper, said, sternly:

"Another such transaction, Mr. Mullins, and you leave my employ."

"But, sir——" stammered Mullins.

"You may spare your words. I understand the matter. If you had not been in my employ so long, I would discharge you at the end of this week."

Mullins went back to his desk, crushed and mortified. But his brain was busy with the thought, "Where could James Long have obtained the receipt?" He remembered having put it into the pocket of his overcoat, and it had disappeared.

"I was a fool that I didn't destroy it," he reflected.



CHAPTER XV.

A PLOT AGAINST CHESTER.

The more the bookkeeper thought of it, the more he was of the opinion that Chester must have had something to do with the events that led to his discovery and humiliation. Otherwise, how could James Long have recovered the receipt? He, himself, had found it and kept it in his possession. Chester must have chanced upon the receipt and carried it to Long.

Though well convinced of it, he wished to find out positively. Accordingly, he took his cousin Felix into his confidence as far as was necessary, and sent him to the room of the mechanic to find out whether Chester had been there.

It was the middle of the forenoon when Felix knocked at the door of James Long's humble home.

Mrs. Long, with the baby in her arms, answered the knock.

"Is this Mrs. Long?" asked Felix.

"Yes, sir."

"I am the friend of Chester Rand."

"I don't think I know Mr. Rand," said Mrs. Long, who had not heard Chester's name.

"The boy from Mr. Fairchild's office. He called here, I believe, one day last week."

"Oh, yes and a good friend he was to me and mine."

"In what way?" asked Felix, his face lighting with satisfaction at the discovery he had made.

"He brought my husband the receipt he had lost. Didn't he tell you?"

"Oh, yes. I wasn't thinking of that. He asked me to inquire if he left his gloves here?"

"I haven't found any. I should have seen them if he left them here."

"All right. I will tell him. He thought he might have left them. Good morning, ma'am."

And Felix hurried downstairs. He was not partial to poor people or tenement houses, and he was glad to get away.

He reached the office in time to go out to lunch with the bookkeeper.

"Well?" asked Mullins, eagerly. "Did you go to Long's?"

"Yes."

"What did you find out?"

"I found out that your office boy had been there and carried them the receipt."

"The young—viper! So he is trying to undermine me in the office. Well, he'll live to regret it," and the bookkeeper shook his head vigorously.

"I'd get even with him if I were you, Cousin David."

"Trust me for that! I generally pay off all debts of that kind."

"How will you do it?" asked Felix, curiously.

"I don't know yet. Probably I'll get him into some bad scrape that will secure his discharge."

"And then you'll get me into the place?"

"I am afraid I can't. I am not on good terms with Mr. Fairchild, and my recommendation won't do you much good, even if I do manage to get rid of Chester."

"Then I don't see how I am going to be benefited by working for you," said Felix, dissatisfied.

"I'll pay you in some way. To begin with, here's a dollar. This is for your errand of this morning."

"Thank you, Cousin David," said Felix, pocketing the bill with an air of satisfaction. "I think I'll go to Daly's Theater to-night. Father doesn't give me much spending money—only twenty-five cents a week, and what's a fellow to do with such a beggarly sum as that?"

"It is more than I had at your age."

"The world has progressed since then. A boy needs more pocket money now than he did fifteen years ago. How soon shall you try to get even with that boy?"

"I think it will be prudent to wait a while. Mr. Fairchild may suspect something if I move too soon. The boy has been with us less than a week."

"He has been with you long enough to do some harm."

"That's true," said Mullins, with an ugly look.

"Does he seem to suit Mr. Fairchild?"

"Yes; he appears to be intelligent, and he attends to his duties—worse luck!—but he's a thorn in my side, a thorn in my side! I'd give twenty-five dollars if he was out of the office."

"Do you want me to break off acquaintance with him?"

"No; keep on good terms with him. Let him think you are his intimate friend. It will give me a chance to plot against him—through you."



CHAPTER XVI.

PROF. HAZLITT AT HOME.

Chester did not forget his engagement to call upon Prof. Hazlitt on Wednesday evening.

He was shown at once into the professor's study. It was a large room, the sides lined with bookcases crowded with volumes. There seemed to be more books than Chester had ever seen before.

In the center of the room was a study table, covered with books, open as if in use. On one side was a desk, at which Prof. Hazlitt himself was seated.

"Good-evening, my young friend," he said, cordially, as Chester entered the room. "You did not forget your appointment."

"No, sir. I was not likely to forget such an engagement."

"Have you grown to feel at home in the city?"

"Not entirely, sir, but I am getting a little used to it."

"I think you mentioned that you were going into a real estate office?"

"Yes, sir. I have commenced my duties there."

"I hope you find them agreeable."

"I might, sir, but that the bookkeeper seems to have taken a dislike to me."

"I suspect that you would like better to devote yourself to art work."

"I think I should, sir, but Mr. Conrad thinks it better that I should only devote my leisure to drawing."

"No doubt his advice is wise, for the present, at least. Now, suppose we come to business. I believe I told you I am writing a book on ethnology."

"Yes, sir."

"I find a good deal of help in rare volumes which I consult at the Astor Library. These I cannot borrow, but I have the use of anything I find suited to my needs in the library of Columbia College. Then I import a good many books. I shall spare no pains to make my own work valuable and comprehensive. Of course, I shall feel at liberty to copy and use any illustrations I find in foreign publications. It is here that you can help me."

"Yes, sir."

"Here, for instance," and the professor opened a French book, "are some sketches illustrating the dress and appearance of the natives of Madagascar. Do you think you can copy them?"

"I have no doubt of it, sir," he answered.

"Sit down in that chair and try. You will find pencils and drawing paper before you. I will mention one or two particulars in which I want you to deviate from the original."

Chester sat down and was soon deep in his task. He felt that it was important for him to do his best. He could understand that, though the professor was a kind-hearted man, he would be a strict critic.

He therefore worked slowly and carefully, and it was nearly an hour before he raised his head and said:

"I have finished."

"Show the sketch to me," said the professor.

Chester handed it to him.

He examined it with critical attention. Gradually his face lighted up with pleasure.

"Admirably done!" he exclaimed. "You have carried out my wishes."

"Then you are satisfied, sir?"

"Entirely."

"I am very glad," said Chester, with an air of relief.

He felt now he could do all that was required of him, and, as the contract would pay him two hundred dollars, this success to-night was an important one.

"I won't ask you to do any more this evening, but I will give you some work to do at home. I believe I agreed to pay you two dollars for each sketch?"

"Yes, sir."

"Probably you are not over well provided with money, and I will pay you as you go on. Or, rather, I will give you ten dollars as an advance for future work."

"Thank you, sir. You are very kind."

"Only considerate. I have seen the time when a ten-dollar-bill would have been welcome to me. Now, thanks to a wealthy relative, who left me a fortune, I am amply provided for."

At this moment the study door opened and a bright-looking boy of about fifteen entered.

"May I come in, uncle?" he asked, with a smile.

"Yes. Chester, this is my nephew, Arthur Burks. Arthur, this is Chester Rand, a young artist, who is assisting me."

Arthur came forward and gave Chester his hand cordially.

"You ought to wear spectacles," he said, "like uncle Edgar. You don't look dignified enough to be his assistant."

"That may come in time," said Chester, with a smile.

"Arthur, I am done with Chester for this evening," said the professor. "You may carry him off and entertain him. You may bring me the other two sketches whenever you are ready."

"Come up to my den," said Arthur. "I have the front room on the third floor."

As they went upstairs, a prolonged, melancholy shriek rang through the house.

Chester stopped short in dismay, and an expression of pain succeeded the gay look on Arthur's face.



CHAPTER XVII.

CHESTER TAKES A LESSON IN BOXING.

"That is my poor, little cousin," explained Arthur.

"Is he sick or in pain?" asked Chester, in quick sympathy.

"He had a fever when he was three years old that left his mind a wreck. He is now eight. The most eminent physicians have seen him, but there seems little hope of his improvement or recovery."

"Does he suffer pain?"

"You ask on account of the shriek you heard. As far as we can tell, he does not. The shriek comes, so the doctor tells us, from a nervous spasm. He would have been a bright boy if he had kept his health. Would you like to see him?"

Chester shrank back.

"I am afraid I should excite him," he said.

He had, besides, an idea that a boy so afflicted would be repulsive in appearance.

"No," said Arthur, "it may relieve him to see you by diverting his thoughts."

Without further words, he opened the door of a room at the head of the staircase and entered, followed reluctantly by Chester.

"Ernest," said Arthur, in a soothing tone, "I have brought you a friend. His name is Chester."

Chester was amazed at the sight of the boy. He was wonderfully handsome, especially when at Arthur's words the look of pain left his face and it brightened into radiant beauty. He seemed to fall in love with Chester at first sight. He ran up to him, seized his hand, kissed it, and said:

"I love you."

Arthur, too, looked amazed.

"He never took to anyone so before," he said. "You have fascinated him."

"Sit down. Let me sit in your lap," pleaded Ernest.

All feeling of repugnance, all thoughts of the boy's malady were forgotten. Chester sat in a low rocking-chair and Ernest seated himself in his lap, touching his face and hair softly with a caressing hand.

"What a charming boy he is!" thought Chester.

"Did you come to see me?" asked Ernest, softly.

"Yes, I came with Arthur."

"Will you stay with me a little while?"

"A little while, but I must soon go. Why did you scream so loud a little while ago?"

"I—don't know."

"Were you in pain?"

"N—no," answered Ernest, softly.

"Do you like to cry out in that manner?"

"No, but—I have to do it. I can't help it."

"I think he gives the right explanation," said Arthur. "It is a nervous impulse, and has nothing to do with pain."

"Does he ever sit in your lap, like this?"

"No; I think he likes me in a way, for I am always kind to him, but you seem to draw him to you irresistibly."

At that moment the professor came in. When he saw Ernest sitting in Chester's lap, he stopped short in astonishment.

"This is strange," he said.

"Isn't it, uncle? Chester seems to fascinate my little cousin. No sooner did he enter the room than Ernest ran up to him, kissed his hand, and caressed him."

"I can't explain it," said the professor, "but Chester seems to have a wonderful influence over my poor boy. I never saw him look so happy or contented before."

All this while Ernest continued to stroke Chester's cheek and his hair, and regarded him with looks of fond affection.

"I am afraid Ernest annoys you," said the professor.

"No; I am glad he likes me. I never had a little brother. I think I should enjoy having one."

"If he could only be always like this," said the professor, regretfully.

Just then Margaret entered. She was the nurse, who had constant charge of Ernest. She paused on the threshold, and her looks showed her surprise.

"Ernest has found a friend, Margaret," said the professor.

"I never saw the like, sir. Come here, Ernest."

The boy shook his head.

"No, I want to stay with him," indicating Chester.

"Did Ernest ever see him before, sir?"

"No; it seems to be a case of love at first sight."

"He has cut me out," said Arthur, smiling. "Ernest, which do you like best, me or him?"

"Him," answered Ernest, touching Chester's cheek.

"I must tell Dr. Gridley of this new manifestation on the part of my poor boy," said the professor. "Perhaps he can interpret it."

For twenty minutes Chester retained Ernest on his lap. Then Arthur said:

"Chester must go now, Ernest."

The boy left Chester's lap obediently.

"Will you come and see me again?" he pleaded.

"Yes, I will come," said Chester, and, stooping over, he kissed the boy's cheek. Ernest's face lighted up with a loving smile, and again he kissed Chester's hand.

"Now, Chester, you can come to my den." Arthur opened the door of a large room, furnished with every comfort.

It was easy to see that it was a boy's apartment. On a table were boxing gloves. Over a desk in a corner was hung the photograph of a football team, of which Arthur was the captain. There was another photograph representing him with gloves on, about to have a set-to with a boy friend.

"Do you box, Chester?" he asked.

"No; I never saw a pair of boxing gloves before."

"I will give you a lesson. Here, put on this pair."

Chester smiled.

"I shall be at your mercy," he said. "I am, perhaps, as strong as you, but I have no science."

"It won't take you long to learn."

So the two boys faced each other. Before he knew what was going to happen, Chester received a light tap on the nose from his new friend.

"I must tell you how to guard yourself. I will be the professor and you the pupil."

Chester soon became interested, and at the end of half an hour his teacher declared that he had improved wonderfully.

"We will have a lesson every time you come to see uncle," he said.

"Then I shall come to see two professors."

"Yes, an old one and young one. Between uncle, Ernest and myself, you will find your time pretty well occupied when you come here."

"I think it a great privilege to come here," said Chester, gratefully.

"And I am glad to have you. I shall have some one to box with, at any rate. Now," he added, with a comical look, "I can't induce my uncle to have a bout with me. Indeed, I should be afraid to, for he is so shortsighted he would need to wear spectacles, and I would inevitably break them."

Chester could not forbear laughing at the idea of the learned professor having a boxing match with his lively, young nephew.

"If you will make me as good a boxer as yourself, I shall feel very much indebted."

"That will come in time. I am quite flattered at the opportunity of posing as a teacher. Have you a taste for jewelry? Just look in this drawer."

Arthur opened one of the small drawers in his bureau, and displayed a varied collection of studs, sleeve buttons, collar buttons, scarf pins, etc.

"You might set up a jeweler's store," suggested Chester. "Where did you get them all?"

"I had an uncle who was in the business, and he and other relatives have given me plenty."

"I haven't even a watch."

"No, really? Why, how can you get along without one?"

"I have to."

"Wait a minute."

Arthur opened another drawer, revealing two silver watches, one an open face, the other a hunting watch.

"Take your choice," he said.

"Do you really mean it?"

"Certainly."

"But would your uncle approve of your giving me such a valuable present?"

"My uncle doesn't bother himself about such trifles. I don't use either of these watches. I have a gold one, given me last Christmas."

"Since you are so kind, I think I prefer the hunting watch."

"All right! There it is. Let me set it for you. The chain goes with it, of course."

Chester felt delighted with his present. He had hoped sometime—when he was eighteen, perhaps—to own a watch, but had no expectation of getting one so soon.

"You are a generous friend, Arthur," he said.

"Don't make too much of such a trifle, Chester!" returned the other, lightly.

When Chester said he must go home, Arthur put on his hat and proposed to walk with him part of the way, an offer which Chester gratefully accepted.

They walked over to Broadway, chatting as they went.

All at once, Chester, who had not expected to see anyone he knew, touched Arthur on the arm.

"Do you see that man in front of us?" he asked, pointing to a figure about six feet ahead.

"Yes. What of him?"

"It is our bookkeeper, David Mullins."

"Is it, indeed? Do you know whom he is walking with?"

Chester glanced at a rather flashily dressed individual who was walking arm in arm with the bookkeeper.

"No," he answered.

"It is Dick Ralston," answered Arthur, "one of the most notorious gamblers in the city."



CHAPTER XVIII.

DICK RALSTON.

Chester was new to the city and a novice in worldly affairs, but the discovery that the bookkeeper was on intimate terms with a gambler astounded him. He felt that Mr. Fairchild ought to know it, but he shrank from telling him.

Of course, the presumption was that Mullins was also a gambler, but this was not certain. Chester decided to say nothing, but to be watchful. David Mullins had been five years in his present place, and his services must have been satisfactory or he would not have been retained.

There was one thing, however, that Chester did not know. This gambler—Dick Ralston, as he was familiarly called—was only a recent acquaintance. Mullins had known him but three months, but had already, through his influence, been smitten by the desire to become rich more quickly than he could in any legitimate way.

He had accompanied Dick to the gaming table, and tried his luck, losing more than he could comfortably spare. He was in debt to his dangerous friend one hundred and fifty dollars, and on the evening in question Dick had intimated that he was in need of the money.

"But how can I give it to you?" asked Mullins, in a tone of annoyance.

"You receive a good salary."

"One hundred dollars a month, yes. But I can't spare more than thirty dollars a month toward paying the debt."

"Which would take you five months. That won't suit me. Haven't you got any money saved up?"

"No; I ought to have, but I have enjoyed myself as I went along, and it has taken all I earned."

"Humph! Very pleasant for me!"

"And for me, too. It isn't very satisfactory to pinch and scrape for five months just to get out of debt. If it was for articles I had had—in other words, for value received—it would be different. But it is just for money lost at the gaming table—a gambling debt."

"Such debts, among men of honor," said Dick, loftily, "are the most binding. Everywhere they are debts of honor."

"I don't see why," grumbled Mullins.

"Come," said Ralston, soothingly, "you are out of sorts, and can't see things in their right light. I'll lend you fifty dollars more, making the debt two hundred dollars."

"I don't see how that will help me."

"I'll tell you. You must win the money to pay your debt at the gaming table. Why, two hundred dollars is a trifle. You might win it in one evening."

"Or lose as much more."

"There's no such word as fail! Shall I tell you what I did once?"

"Yes," answered Mullins, in some curiosity.

"I was in Nashville—dead broke! I was younger then, and losses affected me more. I was even half inclined—you will laugh, I know—to blow my brains out or to throw myself into the river, when a stranger offered to lend me ten dollars to try my luck again. Well, I thought as you did, that it was of little use. I would lose it, and so make matters worse.

"But desperation led me to accept. It was one chance, not a very good one, but still a chance. From motives of prudence I only risked five dollars at first. I lost. Savagely I threw down the remaining five and won twenty-five. Then I got excited, and kept on for an hour. At the end of that time, how do you think I stood?"

"How?" asked Mullins, eagerly.

"I had won eight hundred and sixty-five dollars," answered Dick Ralston, coolly. "I paid back the ten dollars, and went out of the gambling house a rich man, comparatively speaking."

Now, all this story was a clever fiction, but David Mullins did not know this. He accepted it as plain matter of fact, and his heart beat quickly as he fancied himself winning as large a sum.

"But such cases must be rare," he ventured.

"Not at all. I could tell you more wonderful stories about friends of mine, though it was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me. Now, will you take the fifty dollars I offered you?"

"Yes, but I don't want to play again to-night. I feel nervous."

"Very good. Meet me to-morrow evening at the gambling house, and the money shall be ready for you."

Then they parted, and the bookkeeper, who had a headache, went home and to bed. He had that evening lost fifty dollars to Dick Ralston, and so increased his debt from one hundred to one hundred and fifty dollars.

But his heart was filled with feverish excitement. The story told by Ralston had its effect upon him, and he decided to keep on in the dangerous path upon which he had entered. Why pinch himself for five months to pay his debt, when a single evening's luck would clear him from every obligation? If Dick Ralston and others could be lucky, why not he? This was the way Mullins reasoned. He never stopped to consider what would be the result if things did not turn out as he hoped—if he lost instead of won.

Some weeks passed. The bookkeeper met with varying success at the gaming table. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, but on the whole his debt to Dick Ralston didn't increase. There were reasons why the gambler decided to go slow. He was playing with Mullins as a cat plays with a mouse.

But our chief concern is with Chester Rand. He found a comfortable room on Twelfth Street, not far from the office, which, with board, only cost him five dollars per week. This, to be sure, took all his salary, but he was earning something outside.

On account of so much time being taken up by his work for the professor, he did little for the comic weeklies. But occasionally, through his friend, the artist, a five or ten-dollar bill came into his hands. He bought himself a new suit, and some other articles which he found he needed, and wrote home to ask his mother if she wished any assistance.

"Thank you for your offer," she replied, "but the money Miss Dolby pays me defrays all my housekeeping expenses and a little more. She is certainly peculiar, but is good-natured, and never finds fault. She is a good deal of company for me. Of course, I miss you very much, but it cheers me to think you are doing well, and are happy, with good prospects for the future. There is nothing for you in Wyncombe, as I very well know; that is, nothing you would be willing to accept.

"That reminds me to say that Mr. Tripp is having a hard time with boys. He discharged Abel Wood soon after you went to New York. He has tried two boys since, but doesn't seem to get suited. When I was in the store yesterday, he inquired after you. 'Tell him,' he said, 'that if he gets tired of New York, he can come back to the store, and I will pay him three dollars a week!" He said this with an air of a man who is making a magnificent offer. I told him you were satisfied with your position in the city. I must tell you of one mean thing he has done.

"He has been trying to induce Miss Dolby to leave me and take board with him, offering to take her for two dollars a week less. She told me of this herself. 'I wouldn't go there if he'd take me for nothing,' she said, and I believe she meant it. She is not mean, and is willing to pay a fair, even a liberal, price, where she is suited. You see, therefore, that neither you nor I need borrow any trouble on this point!"

This letter relieved Chester of all anxiety. All things seemed bright to him. What he did for the comic weeklies, added to his work for Prof. Hazlitt, brought him in ten dollars a week on an average. This, added to the five dollars a week from Mr. Fairchild, gave him an aggregate salary of fifteen dollars a week, so that he was always amply provided with money.

"Cousin David," said Felix to the bookkeeper one day, "I don't see how it happens that Chester is so well supplied with cash."

"Is he?" asked Mullins.

"Yes; he has just bought a new suit, a new hat and new shoes. They must have cost him altogether as much as thirty dollars. How much wages do you pay him?"

"Five dollars a week."

"And he pays all that for board, for he told me so."

"It does seem a little mysterious. Perhaps his friend the artist helps him."

"No, he doesn't. I intimated as much one day, but he said no, that he paid his own way. One evening last week, I saw him going into Daly's Theatre with a young fellow handsomely dressed—quite a young swell. They had two-dollar seats, and I learned that Chester paid for them. He doesn't have any chance to pick up any money in this office, does he?" asked Felix, significantly.

"I can't say as to that. I haven't missed any."

"I wish he would help himself. Of course, he would be discharged, and then you might find a place for me."

"I may do so yet."

"Is there any chance of it?" asked Felix, eagerly.

"In about two weeks, Mr. Fairchild is going West on business. He will be gone for a month, probably. In his absence, I shall run the office."

"I see."

"And I shall probably find some reason for discharging Chester Rand," added the bookkeeper, significantly. "In that case, you will hold yourself ready to slip into his place."

"Bully for you, Cousin David," exclaimed Felix, in exultation.



CHAPTER XIX.

MR. FAIRCHILD LEAVES THE CITY.

About ten days later, Chester found himself alone in the office with his employer, the bookkeeper having gone out to call upon a man who had commissioned the broker to buy him a house.

"Chester," said Mr. Fairchild, "has Mr. Mullins mentioned to you that I start next Monday on a Western trip?"

"I heard him say so to a gentleman in here on business."

"I shall have to leave Mr. Mullins to take charge of the office and run the business. The time was when I would have done so with confidence, but the affair of James Long has made me distrustful. He thoroughly understands my business, and it would be difficult for me to supply his place. For the present, therefore, I feel obliged to retain him. During my absence, however, I wish, if you see anything wrong, that you would apprise me of it by letter. You may direct letters to Palmer's Hotel, Chicago, and they will be forwarded to me from there. What is your address?"

Chester gave it, and Mr. Fairchild wrote it down.

"It is rather unusual," continued Mr. Fairchild, "for a man in my position to make a confidant of his office boy, but I have observed you carefully, and I believe that you are not only intelligent, but are faithful to my interests."

"Thank you, sir," said Chester, with genuine gratification. "I think I can promise you that you will not be disappointed in me."

"Of course Mr. Mullins must not know of the understanding between us. Don't breathe a hint of what I have said."

"No, sir, I will not."

"In case you think it necessary you may telegraph to me. I hope, however, that no such emergency will arise."

Chester asked himself whether it was his duty to apprise Mr. Fairchild of his seeing Mullins in intimate companionship with a gambler, but, on the whole, decided not to do so. He did not wish needlessly to prejudice his employer against the bookkeeper.

On Monday morning Mr. Fairchild left the office and took the Sixth Avenue Elevated train to Cortlandt Street station, from which it is only five minutes' walk to the ferry connecting with the train on the Pennsylvania Railroad.

"How long shall you be away, Mr. Fairchild?" asked the bookkeeper.

"I cannot yet tell. It will depend on the success I meet with in my business. I am afraid I may be absent four weeks."

"Don't hurry back," said Mullins. "I will keep things running."

"I rely upon your fidelity," said the broker, not without significance.

"You may be assured of that. I have been in your employ for over five years."

"And of course understand all the details of my business. That is true. Continue faithful to me and you will have no cause to repent it."

"Thank you, sir. You need have no anxiety."

"Chester," said Mr. Fairchild, "you may go with me as far as the station and carry my grip."

When they were outside, the broker said:

"I could have carried the grip myself, but I wished to have a parting word with you. Mr. Mullins is thoroughly acquainted with my business, but within the last six months I found myself distrusting him. In four weeks, for I shall be likely to be away that length of time, something may occur detrimental to my interests, and I heartily wish I had some one else in charge. I may rely upon you bearing in mind what I told you the other day?"

"Yes, sir; I won't forget."

"I know that you are faithful, and I only wish you understood the business well enough to be placed in charge."

"I wish so, too," said Chester, frankly.

"I think, however," Mr. Fairchild added, with a smile, "that it would be hardly prudent to trust my business to an office boy."

"You are already trusting me very much, Mr. Fairchild."

"Yes; I feel safe in doing so."

Chester took the grip up the Elevated stairway and parted with Mr. Fairchild at the ticket office.

As he went down to the street he reflected that his own position during the broker's absence might not be very comfortable. Still he had his employer's confidence, and that gave him much pleasure.

He had reached Harris' large store on his way home when a rakish-looking figure, springing from he knew not where, overtook and touched him on the arm. Chester immediately recognized him as the gambler with whom he had seen the bookkeeper walking on the evening of his first visit to the house of Prof. Hazlitt.

"I say, boy," said Ralston, "you're employed by Fairchild, the real estate man, ain't you?"

"Yes, sir," answered Chester, coldly.

"Didn't I see him going to the Elevated station with you just now?"

"Yes, sir."

"With a grip in his hand?"

"Yes."

"Is he off for a journey?"

"He has started for the West."

"So? I had business with him, but I suppose I can transact it with Mullins just as well."

"You will find him in the office."

"All right! I'll go there."

Chester turned his glance upon Dick Ralston and rapidly took note of his appearance. He was rather a stocky man, with a red, pimpled face, a broad nose, small, twinkling eyes and intensely black hair. He wore a "loud," striped sack suit, and on one of his pudgy fingers was a diamond ring. It was really a diamond, and he had often found it serviceable. When he was in very bad luck he pawned it for a comfortable sum, but invariably redeemed it when fortune smiled upon him again.

He followed Chester into the broker's office. Mullins sat on a stool at the desk, picking his teeth. He looked like a man of leisure, with little upon his mind.

"Hello, Mullins, old boy!" said Dick, pushing forward with extended hand. "So you're promoted to boss?"

"Yes," answered the bookkeeper, showing his teeth in a complacent smile. "Can I sell you a house this morning?"

"Well, not exactly. I'm not quite up to that in the present state of my funds. If you have on your list a one-story shanty on the rocks near Central Park I may invest."

"Cash down, or do you want to have part of the purchase money on mortgage?"

Then both laughed, and Ralston made a playful dig at Mullins' ribs.

Chester could not help hearing the conversation. He saw in it a proof of the friendly relations between the two. This, so far as he knew, was the first visit made by Ralston to Mr. Mullins. It was clear that the bookkeeper felt that such a caller would injure him in the eyes of Mr. Fairchild.

"I am glad old Fairchild is gone," said Dick Ralston, lowering his tone. "Now I can come in freely."

"Don't come in too often," replied Mullins, with a cautioning look at Chester. "It might——"

Chester lost the rest of the sentence.

"Send him out!" suggested Dick, in a still lower tone, but Chester caught the words.

"Chester," said the bookkeeper, "you may go up to the Fifth Avenue Hotel and ask at the office if Mr. Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis, has arrived?"

"Yes, sir."

After Chester went out, Ralston inquired, "Is there a man named Paul Perkins?"

"Not that I know of," answered Mullins, with a laugh.

"I see. You're a sharp fellow. You only wanted to get rid of the kid."

"Exactly. Now we can talk freely."

"That's what I came about. Do you know, Mullins, you are owing me seven hundred and fifty dollars?"

"Is it so much as that?" asked the bookkeeper, anxiously.

"Yes; I can show you the account. Now, to tell you the truth, Mullins, I'm in a tight fix, and my bank account needs replenishing."

"So does mine," returned Mullins, with a sickly smile.

Dick Ralston frowned slightly.

"No joking, please!" he said, roughly. "I'm in earnest."

"I don't see what I am going to do about it," muttered Mullins, defiantly.

"Don't you. Then perhaps I can help you by a suggestion."

"I wish you would."

"You are left in charge here during Mr. Fairchild's absence?"

"Well, suppose I am."

"And you handle the funds?"

"Yes."

"Then," and Dick Ralston bent over and whispered something in the bookkeeper's ear.

Mullins started, and looked agitated.

"What would you have me do?" he inquired.

"Borrow a little money from the office," answered Dick, coolly.

"But, good heavens, man, it would ruin me. Must you have me risk prison?"

"Don't be alarmed! I only want you to borrow two or three hundred dollars. You can return it before Fairchild gets back."

"How am I to return it?"

"You can win it back in one evening at the gaming table."

"Or lose more."

There was considerable further conversation, Dick Ralston urging, and Mullins feebly opposing something which the gambler proposed. Then a customer came in, who had to receive attention. Inside of an hour Chester re-entered the office, accompanied by a sandy-complexioned stranger, his head covered with a broad, flapping, Western sombrero, and wearing a long, brown beard descending at least eighteen inches.

"I hear you want to see me," he said to Mullins.

"Who are you?" asked the astonished bookkeeper.

"I am Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis," was the surprising reply.



CHAPTER XX.

PAUL PERKINS, OF MINNEAPOLIS.

If a bomb had exploded in the office David Mullins and his friend Ralston could not have been more astonished than by the appearance of Paul Perkins, whose name was invented without the slightest idea that any such person existed.

Before relating what followed, a word of explanation is necessary.

Chester went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel without the slightest suspicion that he had been sent on a fool's errand. He imagined, indeed, that Mr. Mullins wanted to get rid of him, but did not doubt that there was such a man as Paul Perkins, and that he was expected to arrive at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.

He walked up Broadway in a leisurely manner, feeling that his hasty return was not desired. He reached the Fifth Avenue, and entering—it was the first time he had ever visited the hotel—went up to the desk.

The clerk was giving instructions to a bell boy, who was directed to carry a visitor's card to No. 221. When at leisure, Chester asked:

"Has Mr. Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis, arrived at the hotel?"

The clerk looked over the list of arrivals. Finally his forefinger stopped at an entry on the book.

"Yes," he answered, "he arrived last evening. Did you wish to see him?"

About this Chester was in doubt. He had only been asked to inquire if Mr. Perkins had arrived. He assumed, however, that the bookkeeper wished to see Mr. Perkins at the office. Accordingly he answered, "Yes, sir. I should like to see him."

The clerk rang a bell and another bell boy made his appearance.

"Write your name on a card," said the clerk, "and I will send it up."

"The gentleman won't know my name," said Chester.

"Then give the name of your firm."

So Chester, after slight hesitation, wrote:

"Chester Rand. From Clement Fairchild, Real Estate Broker."

"Take that up to 169," said the clerk to the bell boy.

In five minutes the boy returned.

"Mr. Perkins says you are to come upstairs to his room," he reported.

Chester followed the bell boy to the elevator.

He had never before ridden in such a conveyance and the sensation was a novel one. They got off at one of the upper floors, and Chester followed his guide to the door of a room near by.

The bell boy knocked.

"Come in," was heard from the inside.

Chester entered and found himself in the presence of a man of fifty, with a sandy complexion and thick, brown beard. He held the card in his hand, and was looking at it.

"Are you Chester Rand?" he asked, in a high-pitched voice.

"Yes, sir."

"And you come from Clement Fairchild?"

"Yes, sir."

"This is very curious. I never heard the name before."

Chester looked surprised.

"I can't explain it, sir," he said. "I was asked to come to the hotel and ask if you had arrived."

"Where is Mr. Fairchild's office?"

"On West Fourteenth Street."

"And he is a real estate broker?"

"Yes, sir."

"I don't understand what he wants of me, or how in the name of all that is curious he ever heard of me. I don't own any real estate, except a three-story house in which I live."

"Perhaps, sir, if you will go to the office with me you will get an explanation."

"Precisely. That is a very practical and sensible suggestion. Is it far off? I ask because I have never been in New York before."

"It is only about ten minutes' walk."

"Then I'll go with you, that is, if you can wait fifteen minutes while I finish writing a letter to my wife, apprising her of my safe arrival."

"Yes, sir, I am in no especial hurry."

"Then sit down, and—you may look at this," handing him the last copy of Puck.

Chester opened the paper eagerly, for Puck had accepted two of his sketches. He opened it at random, and his eye lighted up, for there was one of the two sketches handsomely reproduced. He uttered a little exclamation.

"What have you found?" asked Paul Perkins, looking up from his letter.

"This picture—is one of mine."

"You don't mean it!" exclaimed the man from Minneapolis, dropping his pen in surprise. "I thought you were an office boy."

"So I am, sir, but—sometimes I sell sketches to the illustrated papers."

"What did you get for this?"

"Seven dollars and a half. That is, I sold this and another for fifteen dollars."

"By the great horn spoon! but this is wonderful."

Chester did not feel called upon to say anything.

"How long did it take you to draw this picture?"

"A little over half an hour."

"Jerusalem! that is at the rate of ten dollars an hour. I am contented to make ten dollars a day."

"So should I be, sir. I don't draw all the time," said Chester, with a smile.

"I was going to ask if you wouldn't give me lessons in drawing and sketching."

"I should be afraid to, sir," laughed Chester. "You might prove a dangerous rival."

"You needn't be afraid. I can play as well as I can sing."

"I suppose you sing well, sir," said Chester, roguishly.

"You can judge. When I was a young man I thought I would practice singing a little in my room one night. The next morning my landlady said, in a tone of sympathy, 'I heard you groaning last night, Mr. Perkins. Did you have the toothache?'"

Chester burst into a hearty laugh.

"If that is the case," he said, "I won't be afraid of you as a rival in drawing."

Mr. Perkins set himself to finishing his letter, and in twenty minutes it was done.

"Now, I am ready," he said.

As they went downstairs, Chester observed, "I will ask you as a favor, Mr. Perkins, not to refer to my work in Puck, as it is not known at the office that I do any work outside."

"All right, my boy. By the way, how much do they pay you at the office?"

"Five dollars a week."

"Evidently it isn't as good a business as drawing."

"No, sir; but it is more reliable. I can't always satisfy the comic papers, and I am likely to have sketches left on my hands."

"Yes; that is a practical way of looking at it, and shows that you are a boy of sense. What sort of a man is Mr. Fairchild?"

"A very kind, considerate man, but I forgot to say that you won't see him."

"But I thought he sent you to call on me?"

"No, sir; Mr. Fairchild started for the West this morning. It was Mr. Mullins, the bookkeeper, who sent me."

"That complicates the mystery. Is he a good friend of yours?"

"No, sir; he dislikes me."

Mr. Perkins looked curious, and Chester, considerably to his own surprise, confided to him the story of his relations with the bookkeeper.

"He's a scamp!" commented the man from Minneapolis. "Why does Mr. Fairchild keep him. I wouldn't! I'd bounce him very quick."

"He has been with Mr. Fairchild five years and understands his business thoroughly."

"Well, there is something in that; but I wouldn't like to have in my employ a man whom I couldn't trust. Have you ever been out West?"

"No, sir."

"You ought to come out there. The city I represent is a smart one and no mistake. Of course you've heard of the rivalry between Minneapolis and St. Paul."

"Yes, sir."

"I don't take sides, for I live in both, but I think business facilities in Minneapolis are greater. I think you are a boy who would succeed at the West."

"I should like to go there some day. I own some property in Washington Territory."

"You do?" exclaimed Paul Perkins, in great surprise. "Whereabouts?"

"In Tacoma. I own some lots there."

"Then let me tell you, my boy, that you will be a rich man."

"But I thought prices of land in Tacoma were small."

"So they are—at present; but it is the future terminus of the Northern Pacific Railroad. When it is completed there will be a boom. How many lots do you own?"

"Five."

"Take my advice and hold on to them. What square is this?"

They had reached Seventeenth Street.

"Union Square."

"It's a pretty place. Is Tiffany's near here?"

"Yes, sir; only two blocks away. We shall pass it."

"All right! Point it out to me. I'm going to buy a gold watch for myself there. I've needed one for a long time, but I wanted the satisfaction of buying one at Tiffany's. Anything that is sold there must be A No. 1."

"I have no doubt of it, but I don't trade there much yet."

"No; you must wait till you have realized on your Western lots."

They turned down Fourteenth Street, and soon stood in front of Mr. Fairchild's office. They entered, and this brings us to the point where the last chapter ends.



CHAPTER XXI.

MR. PERKINS MAKES AN ACQUAINTANCE.

Dick Ralston and the bookkeeper stared at their Western friend in undisguised amazement. Finally Mr. Mullins said, "What did I understand you to call yourself?"

"Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis."

"And—you are staying at the Fifth Avenue Hotel?"

"Certainly. Didn't you send this boy with a message?" said Mr. Perkins, rather impatiently.

"Ye-es."

"How did you know that I was coming to New York? That's what beats me."

Mullins began to appreciate the situation, and he was cudgeling his brains for an explanation. Finally one came.

"I may be misinformed, but I learned from a friend of yours that you were coming here with an intention of locating in our city. Now, as we are in the real estate business, I thought we would offer our services to find you a suitable house."

"Some friend of mine notified you of my coming to New York? Why, I started off on a sudden without consulting anyone. I don't see how anyone could give you the information."

"I won't undertake to explain it," said the bookkeeper. "I will only say that I am glad to meet you."

"Thank you! You are very polite. What was the name of the friend who spoke about me and my plans?"

"I have a poor memory for names, but I believe I have the gentleman's card in my desk."

He opened the desk and made an elaborate search for what he knew he should not find.

"It's no use," he said, after a pause. "It's disappeared."

"What was the appearance of the person?" persisted Mr. Perkins.

"He was—tall, and—yes, with a dark complexion and—and side whiskers."

"About how old?"

"I should say about forty."

"I know plenty of people answering that description. But how did he happen to call on you?"

"There you have me. He had some business with Mr. Fairchild, and unfortunately Mr. F. started West this morning."

"I see. I can get no clew to the mystery. However, I am glad to have made the acquaintance of this young man," indicating Chester.

"Oh, you mean our office boy," returned Mullins, coldly.

Just then Dick Ralston nudged the bookkeeper.

"Introduce me," he said, sotto voce.

The bookkeeper did not incline favorably to this request, but did not dare to refuse. Dick Ralston's appearance was decidedly against him, and his "loud" attire was in keeping with his face and manners.

"Mr. Perkins," said Mullins, "allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Ralston."

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Ralston," said the man from Minneapolis, extending his hand, which Dick seized and pressed warmly.

"Proud to make your acquaintance, Mr. Perkins," rejoined the gambler. "I always did like Western people."

"Thank you. I am not Western by birth, though I went out to Minnesota when I was a mere boy."

"And I have no doubt you have prospered," said Ralston, who was really anxious to learn whether Mr. Perkins was well provided with money and was worth fleecing.

"Well, I don't complain," answered Perkins, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I shall be glad to pay you any attentions," insinuated Ralston. "I know the ropes pretty well, and I flatter myself I can show you the town as well as anyone, eh, Mullins?"

"Oh, yes," assented the bookkeeper, not over cordially.

"I have no doubt of it, Mr. Ralston, and I take your offer kindly, but I am afraid I won't have time to go round much."

"Won't you go out and take a drink? Mullins, you go, too!"

"Thank you, but I don't drink—at any rate, when I am away from home. By the way, Mr.——" and he stopped short, for he did not remember the bookkeeper's name.

"Mr. Mullins," suggested that gentleman.

"You are misinformed about my wanting to locate in this city. New York's a right smart place, I admit, but give me Minneapolis. That suits me."

"All right, sir. I am misinformed, that's all."

"If you find my friend's card just write and let me know his name. I'd like to know who it is that knows so much about my plans."

"I will. Where shall I direct?"

"Oh, just direct to Minneapolis. I'm well known there. A letter will be sure to reach me."

"Shall you be at the hotel this evening, Mr. Perkins?" added Dick Ralston, who found it hard to give up his design upon his new acquaintance.

"I don't know. I haven't made any plans."

"I was thinking I might call upon you."

"Don't trouble yourself, Mr. Ralston. Probably you would not find me in."

Mr. Perkins was a tolerably shrewd man. He had "sized up" the gambler, and decided that he did not care to become any better acquainted with him.

"Just as you say," returned Dick Ralston, looking discomfited. "I thought perhaps I could make it pleasant for you."

"If I find I have time I can call at your place of business," said the man from Minneapolis, with a shrewd glance at the gambler.

"I have no place of business," returned Ralston, rather awkwardly. "I am a—a capitalist, and sometimes speculate in real estate. Don't I, Mullins?"

"Of course. By the way, I forgot to tell you that I have four lots on Ninety-sixth Street which would make a good investment."

"Ninety-sixth Street! Ahem, rather far uptown. What's the figure?"

"Five thousand dollars."

"I'll take a look at them as soon as I have time. You see, Mr. Perkins, I do all my real estate business through my friend, Mr. Mullins."

"Just so."

Neither Mr. Perkins nor Chester was taken in by Ralston's assumption of the character of a capitalist. The Western man had already a shrewd suspicion of the gambler's real business, and being a cautious and prudent man, did not care to cultivate him.

"Good-morning!" said Mr. Perkins. "I must not take up any more of your time. Will you allow Chester to go out with me for five minutes?"

"Certainly."

David Mullins would have liked to refuse, but had no good excuse for doing so.

"Don't stay long!" he said, rather sharply.

"I won't keep him long."

When they were in the street Mr. Perkins said: "I don't like the looks of that bookkeeper of yours."

"Nor do I," returned Chester.

"I wouldn't trust him any further than I could see him. Who was that Ralston? Have you ever seen him before?"

"Once. He doesn't come into the office when Mr. Fairchild is at home."

"Do you know anything about him?"

"I know—that is, I have heard that he is a well-known gambler."

"By the great horn spoon, if I didn't think so! He seemed very anxious to show me round the city."

"He would probably have taken you to a gambling house."

"Not if I was in my senses. I don't gamble, and I hope you don't."

"I shouldn't know how," answered Chester, with a smile.

"Have you any engagement for this evening?"

"No, sir."

"What time do you leave the office?"

"At five o'clock."

"Then come round to the hotel and take dinner with me. I don't know anyone in the city, and I shall be glad to have your company this evening. We will take a walk together, and you can show me what's worth seeing."

"Are you not afraid that I will take you to a gambling house?" asked Chester, with a smile.

"I'll risk it."

"You would find Mr. Ralston a better guide."

"But not so safe a one. I shall be satisfied with you."

When Chester returned to the office Mullins asked, sharply: "What did Perkins want to say to you?"

"He asked me to dine with him to-night at the Fifth Avenue Hotel."

"Speak a good word for me, Chester," said Ralston, with unusual affability. "I would like to become better acquainted with him."

"What shall I say, Mr. Ralston?"

"Tell him I am a prominent man, and expect to be nominated for Congress next fall."

This he said with a wink. Chester and the bookkeeper laughed.

"I'll tell him," said Chester.



CHAPTER XXII.

DICK RALSTON'S FATHER.

When Chester followed Mr. Perkins into the great dining room of the Fifth Avenue he was rather dazzled by its size and the glistening appearance of the tables.

"I hope you have brought your appetite with you, Chester," said his Western friend. "The Fifth Avenue sets a good table."

"My appetite is sure to be good. I was kept so busy to-day that I had hardly time to buy a sandwich for lunch."

"All the better! You'll enjoy your meal. As for me, I don't have the appetite I do at home. There's nothing like a tramp on the open prairie to make a man feel peckish."

"Have you ever been in New York before, Mr. Perkins?"

"Not since I was a boy. I was born up Albany way, and came here when I was about your age. But, Lord, the New York of that day wasn't a circumstance to what it is now. There was no Elevated railroad then, nor horse cars either, for that matter, and where this hotel stands there was a riding school or something of that sort."

"Are you going to stay here long?"

"I go to Washington to-morrow, stopping at Philadelphia and Baltimore on the way. No. I have no business in Washington, but I think by the time a man is fifty odd he ought to see the capital of his country. I shall shake hands with the President, too, if I find him at home."

"Have you ever been further West than Minneapolis?"

"Yes, I have been clear out to the Pacific. I've seen the town of Tacoma, where you've got five lots. I shall write out to a friend in Portland to buy me as many. Then we shall both have an interest there."

"You think the lots are worth something?"

"I know it. When the Northern Pacific Railroad is finished, every dollar your friend spent for his lots will be worth thirty or forty."

"I hope your predictions will come true, Mr. Perkins."

"Did I hear you speaking of Tacoma?" asked a gentleman on Chester's left hand.

"Yes, sir."

"I can tell you something about it. I live at Seattle."

"Am I right about there being a future for the place?" asked Paul Perkins.

"You are. I may say that lots there are already worth twice what they were last week."

"How's that?"

"Because work on the railroad has been resumed, and there is no doubt now that it will be pushed to completion."

"That settles it. I must own property there. I won't wait to write, but will telegraph my friend in Portland to go there at once at my expense, and buy five—no, ten lots. I got that idea from you, Chester, and if I make a profit I shall feel indebted to you."

"I shall be glad if it helps fill your pockets, Mr. Perkins."

"Come up to my room for a while, Chester," went on the other, "and we will consider what to do. We might go to the theater, but I think I would rather walk about here and there using my eyes. There is plenty to see in New York."

"That will suit me, Mr. Perkins."

About eight o'clock the two went downstairs. Near the entrance, just inside the hotel, Chester heard himself called by name.

Looking up, he recognized Felix Gordon.

"Are you going to the theater, Chester?" asked Felix.

"No, I think not."

"Won't you introduce me to your friend?"

"Mr. Perkins, this is Felix Gordon, nephew of our bookkeeper," said Chester, unwillingly.

"Hope you are well, Mr. Gordon," said Paul. "Are you fond of the theater?"

"Yes, sir," answered Felix, eagerly. "There's a good play at Palmer's. I think you'd like it."

"No doubt, but I'd rather see the streets of New York. As you are a friend of Chester, do me the favor to buy yourself a ticket," and Mr. Perkins drew a two-dollar bill from his pocket and tendered it to Felix.

"I am ever so much obliged," said Felix, effusively. "As it is time for the performance to commence, I'll go at once, if you'll excuse me."

"Certainly. You don't want to lose the beginning of the play."

As Felix started off on a half run, Mr. Perkins said: "Do you know why I was so polite to Felix, who by all accounts isn't your friend at all?"

"No, I was rather puzzled."

"I wanted to get rid of him. He was probably sent here by his uncle as a spy upon us. Now he is disposed of."

"I see you are shrewd," said Chester, laughing.

"Yes, I'm a little foxy when there's occasion," rejoined Mr. Perkins. "Now, where shall we go?"

I will not undertake to describe the route followed by the two. The city was pretty much all new to the stranger from Minneapolis, and it mattered little where he went.

About ten o'clock the two witnessed from a distance a scene between a man of forty and an old, infirm man, apparently seventy years of age.

"The younger man is Ralston, the gambler," said Chester, in excitement, when they were near enough to recognize the figures of the two.

"Halt a minute, and let us hear what it is all about," returned Mr. Perkins.

"I am hungry," said the old man, pitifully, "and I have no money for a bed. Have pity on me, Dick, and give me something."

"You ought not to have come here," returned Ralston, roughly. "Why didn't you stay in the country, where you had a comfortable home?"

"In the poorhouse," murmured the old man, sadly.

"Well, it's no worse for being a poorhouse, is it?"

"But is it right for me to live there when you are rich and prosperous?"

"How do you know I am rich and prosperous?"

"By your dress. And there's a diamond in your shirt bosom. That must be valuable."

"It's about all I own that is valuable. It was a fool's errand that brought you here. You had better go back," and Ralston prepared to go on.

"Won't you give me a trifle, Dick?"

"Well, take that."

"A quarter?"

"Yes; it will give you some supper."

"But what shall I do for a bed?"

"Go to the station house. They'll take in an old man like you."

Before the aged man could renew his application the younger one had disappeared round the corner of the next street.

"Follow me, Chester," said Paul Perkins. "I'm going to speak to the old man."

He touched him on the shoulder.

"Are you in trouble, my friend?" he asked.

The old man, looking the picture of despondency in his ragged suit, and with his long, gray locks floating over his shoulders, turned at the words.

"Yes, sir," he said, "I am poor and in trouble, and my heart is sore."

"Is the man who has just left you related to you?"

"He is my only son."

"He doesn't seem kind to you."

"No; he cares nothing for his old father."

"How did you become so poor?"

"He is the cause. When he was turned twenty-one I was worth ten thousand dollars. He forged my name, more than once, and to save him I paid the forged notes. So it happened that I was turned out in my old age from the farm and the home that had been mine for twenty-five years, and in the end I was sent to the poorhouse."

"Then he brought all this upon you?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what he is now?"

"He tells me he is in business."

"His business is carried on at the gambling house, so my young friend here assures me. You will get no help from him."

"I begin to think so. Perhaps I was foolish to leave my home, poor as it was, and come here to ask help."

"How much money will take you home?"

"Two dollars."

"Here is a ten-dollar bill. Take it, get a meal and a night's lodging and in the morning start for home. It is the best thing you can do. As for your son, you can only leave him to his own devices. A man who will treat his old father as he has treated you will never prosper."

"Thank you, sir. I will follow your advice."

"I would rather be in your position, old and poor as you are, than in his."

"Chester," added Mr. Perkins, as they walked on, "this Ralston is a more contemptible rascal than I thought. If my old father were living, I would give half the money I possess. While I had a dollar in my pocket he should share it."

"I say the same, Mr. Perkins."

When they reached the Fifth Avenue Hotel, Paul Perkins shook hands with Chester.

"Good-night," he said. "You won't see me for two weeks, perhaps, but I'll be sure to find you out when I return to the city. I hope you won't have any trouble with that scoundrel in the office."

"Thank you, Mr. Perkins, but I am afraid I shall."

"Don't mind it if you do. Remember that you will always have a friend in Paul Perkins."



CHAPTER XXIII.

CHESTER IS DISCHARGED.

"Well," said David Mullins, addressing his cousin Felix, "did you go to the Fifth Avenue Hotel last evening?"

"Yes, Cousin David."

"Did you see that man from Minneapolis and Chester?"

"Yes."

"Where did they go?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" frowned Mullins. "And why not, I should like to know?"

"Because I went to Palmer's Theater."

"So that is the way you spent the quarter I gave you?" exclaimed the bookkeeper, indignantly.

"I couldn't go to Palmer's on that."

"Did you go with them?" asked Mullins, hopefully.

"No, but Mr. Perkins gave me money to go."

"What made him do it?"

"He thought I was a friend of Chester."

"How much did he give you?"

"I occupied a dollar seat," answered Felix, noncommittally.

He did not care to mention that the sum given him was two dollars, half of which he still had in his pocket.

"Humph! so he gave you a dollar. Why didn't you take it and stay with them?"

"Because he gave it to me expressly for the theater. It would have looked strange if I had stayed with them after all."

"I would have found a way, but you are not smart."

Felix did not make any reply, being content with having deceived his cousin as to Mr. Perkins' gift.

"I say, Cousin David, aren't you going to bounce that boy pretty quick and give me his place?"

"Yes, as soon as I get a good excuse."

"Will you do it to-day?"

"No; it would look strange. You may be sure I won't keep him long."

At this point Chester came into the office and was surprised to see Mr. Mullins and Felix already there. Usually the bookkeeper did not show up till half an hour later.

"Good-morning," said Mullins, smoothly. "Did you dine with Mr. Perkins last evening?"

"Yes, sir."

"I suppose you went to the theater?"

"No; Mr. Perkins preferred to take a walk, as he has not been in New York since he was a boy. Did you enjoy the play, Felix?"

"Yes, thank you. It was very nice. I am ever so much obliged to Mr. Perkins for the money to go."

"Mr. Perkins must be a rich man?" said Mullins, interrogatively.

"I think he is pretty well off," answered Chester.

"How long does he stay in the city?"

"He was to leave this morning. He is going to Washington."

David Mullins was glad to hear this. It would make it easier for him to discharge Chester.

He dispatched him on an errand, and was about to make some entries in the books when Dick Ralston strolled in.

"How are you, Dick? Can I do anything for you this morning?"

"Yes; you can let me have a hundred dollars."

"I can't do that," answered the bookkeeper, with a slight frown.

"You'll have to settle up soon," said Ralston, in a surly tone.

"Give me time, can't you? I can't do everything in a minute. What is the matter with you? You look as if you had got out of the wrong side of the bed."

"I had a disagreeable thing happen last evening. Who should appear to me on Madison Avenue but the old man."

"Your father?"

"Yes; he left a good, comfortable home up in the country, and came here to see if he couldn't get some money out of me."

"Did he?"

"I gave him a quarter and advised him to go back. He seems to think I am made of money."

"So he has a comfortable home?"

"Yes," answered Ralston, hesitating slightly. "He's better off than I am in one way. He has no board to pay, and sometimes I haven't money to pay mine."

"I suppose he is staying with friends or relatives," said Mullins, who was not aware that Mr. Ralston, senior, was the inmate of a poorhouse.

"It is an arrangement I made for him. I felt angry to see him here, and I told him so. However, he isn't likely to come again. Have you heard from Fairchild yet?"

"No; it isn't time. He won't reach Chicago till this evening or to-morrow morning."

"Meanwhile—that is, while he is away—you have full swing, eh?"

"Yes; I suppose so."

"Then you'll be a fool if you don't take advantage of it."

David Mullins did not answer. He repented, now that it was too late, that he had placed himself in the power of such a man as Dick Ralston. As long as he owed him seven hundred and fifty dollars there was no escaping him, and Mullins felt very uncomfortable when he considered what steps the gambler wanted him to take to get free from his debts.

At this moment a dignified-looking gentleman living on West Forty-seventh Street entered the office. He was the owner of a large building, of which Mr. Fairchild acted as agent. He looked askance at Dick Ralston, whose loud dress and general appearance left little doubt as to his character.

"Is Mr. Fairchild in?" the caller asked.

"No, sir; he started for the West yesterday."

"I am sorry."

"I can attend to your business, Mr. Gray."

"No, thank you. I prefer to wait. How long will Mr. Fairchild be absent?"

"Probably six weeks."

The gentleman took his leave, with another side glance at Ralston.

When he had gone, Ralston said, "Who is that, Mullins?"

"Mr. Gray, a wealthy banker, living on Forty-seventh Street."

"So? Why didn't you introduce me to the old duffer? I might have made something out of him."

"He is not your style, Dick. He wouldn't care to be introduced to a stranger."

"So he puts on airs, does he?"

"No; but he is rather a proud, reserved man."

"Thinks himself better than his fellow men, I suppose," sneered the gambler.

"I can't say, but it wouldn't have been policy to make you acquainted. If you won't be offended, Dick, I will say that though I am personally your friend, I am afraid that it isn't best for you to be here so much."

"So you are getting on your high horse, Mullins, are you?"

"No; but you are too well known, Dick. If you were only an ordinary man, now, it would be different, but your striking appearance naturally makes people curious about you."

Dick Ralston was not insensible to flattery, and this compliment propitiated him. He was about to go out when Chester entered, returning from his errand.

"How are you, kid?" inquired Ralston.

"Very well, Mr. Ralston," answered Chester, coldly, for he could not forget how the gambler had treated his old father.

"Well, did you pass the evening with that cowboy from Minneapolis?"

"I spent the evening with Mr. Perkins."

"Of course! That's what I mean. Has he got money?"

"He didn't tell me."

"He gave Felix money to go to the theater," interposed Mullins.

"Is that so? He seems to be liberal. I'd like to cultivate his acquaintance. How long is he going to stay at the Fifth Avenue?"

"He left for Washington this morning."

"I am sorry to hear it. Another chance gone, Mullins."

The bookkeeper looked warningly at Ralston. He did not care to have him speak so freely before the office boy.

"I don't suppose we are likely to have any business with Paul Perkins," he said. "I offered to sell him a house, but he doesn't care to locate in New York."

Things went on as usual for the rest of the day. Mr. Mullins, if anything, treated Chester better than usual, and the office boy began to think that he had done the bookkeeper injustice. Felix spent considerable of his time in the office, spending his time in reading nickel libraries, of which he generally carried a supply with him.

On the next day, about three o'clock in the afternoon, Chester was sent downtown on an errand. He was delayed about ten minutes by a block on the Sixth Avenue car line. When he entered the office, Mullins demanded, sharply, "What made you so long?"

Chester explained.

"That's too thin!" retorted the bookkeeper. "I have no doubt you loitered, wasting your employer's time."

"That isn't true, Mr. Mullins," said Chester, indignantly.

"You won't mend mattters by impertinence. It is clear to me that you won't suit us. I will pay you your wages up to this evening, and you can look for another place."

"Mr. Fairchild engaged me, Mr. Mullins. It is only right that you should keep me till he returns, and report your objections."

"I don't require any instructions from you. You are discharged—do you understand?"

"Yes," answered Chester, slowly.

"You needn't wait till evening. Here is your money. Felix will take your place for the present."

"Yes, Cousin David," returned Felix, with alacrity.

"I protest against this sudden discharge," said Chester, "for no fault of my own, Mr. Mullins."

"You have said enough. I understand my business."

There was nothing for Chester to do but to accept the dismissal. It took him by surprise, for though he anticipated ill treatment, he had not expected to be discharged.

"Well, Felix," said the bookkeeper, "you've got the place at last."

"Yes," smiled Felix, complacently. "Didn't Chester look glum when you bounced him?"

"I don't know and I don't care. I have no further use for him. He's too fresh!"



CHAPTER XXIV.

INTRODUCES MR. SHARPLEIGH, THE DETECTIVE.

Chester was not so much disturbed by his discharge, so far as it related to his own welfare, as by the thought that Mr. Fairchild's interests were threatened. He felt that his absent employer ought to be notified at once.

Accordingly he went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel and telegraphed to Chicago:

"I am discharged. Felix Gordon is in my place. Will write."

A few hours later Chester received the following message at his lodgings.

"Your telegram received. Will write you instructions. FAIRCHILD."

Two days later Chester received a letter requesting him to call at once on a well-known detective, give him all the available information and request him to keep careful watch of Mr. Mullins and his operations, and interfere if any steps were taken prejudicial to Mr. Fairchild's interests.

Chester called on the detective and was fortunate enough to find him in. He expected to see a large man of impressive manners and imposing presence, and was rather disappointed when he found a small personage under the average height, exceedingly plain and unpretentious, who might easily have been taken for an humble clerk on a salary of ten or twelve dollars a week.

Mr. Sharpleigh listened attentively to Chester's communication, and then proceeded to ask questions.

"Do you know anything of Mr. Mullins outside of the office?" he asked.

"A little, sir."

"Has he any bad habits? Is he extravagant? Does he drink?"

"I have never seen any evidence that he drank," answered Chester. "Perhaps he may drink a glass of wine or beer occasionally."

"I don't mean that. He is not what may be called an intemperate man?"

"No, sir."

"Any other objectionable habits?"

"I think he gambles."

"Ha! this is important. What makes you think so?"

"He seems to be intimate with a man who, I am told, is a well-known gambler."

"Who is it?"

"Dick Ralston."

"Ralston is as well known as any gambler in the city. How is it that this has not excited the suspicions of Mr. Fairchild?"

"I don't think Mr. Fairchild knows it."

"Then Ralston doesn't come into the office?"

"He did not when Mr. Fairchild was in town. As soon as Mr. Fairchild left he came at once, and now spends considerable time there."

"Probably Mullins owes him money lost in gambling."

"I think he does. I overheard him one day urging Mr. Mullins to give him money."

"That makes it probable. Do you know if they keep company outside?"

"I have seen them walking late in the evening."

"Why do you think Mr. Mullins discharged you?"

"He wanted the place for a cousin of his."

"What name?"

"Felix Gordon."

"Is he there now?"

"Yes; Felix was taken on when I was discharged."

"At once?"

"Yes. He was in the office, probably waiting for the vacancy."

"The plan seems to have been cut and dried. What sort of a boy is Felix?"

"I don't know him very well. He seems on confidential terms with Mr. Mullins."

"Did the bookkeeper have any other reasons for disliking you?"

"Yes; I interfered to prevent his cheating a mechanic out of his month's rent."

"State the circumstances."

Chester did so.

"How long has Mr. Mullins been in Mr. Fairchild's employ?"

"About five years, I think I have heard."

"That speaks well for him. Probably his acquaintance with Ralston is recent, or he would have done something before this to insure his discharge."

There was a short silence, and Chester asked: "Have you any more questions, Mr. Sharpleigh?"

"Not at present. Will you give me your address?"

Chester did so.

"I will send for you if I need you. I think you can help me materially. You seem to have a clear head, and are observing."

It was the evening for Chester to call at Prof. Hazlitt's.

"I passed your office this morning, Chester," said Arthur Burks, "and thought of calling in, but I was in haste."

"You wouldn't have found me, Arthur. I am discharged."

"What!" exclaimed Arthur, in surprise. "What complaint does Mr. Fairchild make of you?"

"None at all. He is out of the city. The bookkeeper, who dislikes me, discharged me, and gave the place to his cousin."

"I am awfully sorry. What will you do?"

"I have some money saved up. Besides, I shall devote more time to drawing. I made a sketch yesterday which Mr. Conrad thinks I will get ten dollars for."

"That is fine. I never earned ten dollars in my life."

"You have never felt obliged to work, except in school."

"I take care not to injure my health in studying," said Arthur, with a laugh.

"I will speak to uncle Edgar, and he will arrange to have you come four times a week instead of two. Then you will earn more money from him."

"Thank you, Arthur. I should like that."

Prof. Hazlitt, on being spoken to, ratified this arrangement, so that Chester's mind was easy. He knew now that he would be able to support himself and more, too.

Chester soon had something more to encourage him. He received at his lodgings the following letter:

"MR. CHESTER RAND.

"DEAR SIR: We are about to establish a new comic weekly, which we shall call The Phoenix. It is backed by sufficient capital to insure its success. Our attention has been called to some illustrations which you have furnished to some of our successful contemporaries, and we shall be glad to secure your services. We may be able to throw considerable work in your way. Please call at our office as soon as possible.

"EDITORS OF THE PHOENIX."

Chester was quite exhilarated by this letter. He felt that it was a proof of his growing popularity as an artist, and this was particularly gratifying. Besides, his income would be largely, at any rate considerably, increased. He lost no time in presenting himself at the office of The Phoenix.

It was located in a large office building on Nassau Street. He took the elevator and went upstairs to the sixth floor. On the door of a room a little way from the elevator he saw the name, and knocked.

"Come in!" was the response.

Chester opened the door and found himself in the presence of a man of about forty, with a profusion of brown hair shading a pleasant countenance. He looked up inquiringly as Chester entered.