Andy Grant's Pluck 19

Andy Grant's Pluck 19

"Indeed!"

 

"You do not mention the name of your firm."

 

"No, I am traveling on private business for the head of the firm."

 

"Ah, yes. I don't wish to be inquisitive. You do right to keep the

business to yourself."

 

"You see, it is not my business."

 

"Just so! You are young for a business agent."

 

"That is true, but I am growing older every day."

 

"Exactly so! Good joke!"

 

Andy's companion laughed quite heartily, rather to the surprise of his

young acquaintance.

 

"I am very glad to have met you. You see, I am very social, and can't

stand being alone. By the way, where do you stop in Chicago?"

 

"At the Sherman House."

 

"Good hotel! I have stopped there often. Still, there is nothing as

homelike as a private house. I have a friend living in the city who

keeps a first-class boarding house and only charges transient guests a

dollar and a quarter a day. I wish you could be induced to go there with

me. At the hotel you will have to pay three or four dollars."

 

Now, Andy was naturally economical, and thought it would be praiseworthy

to save money for Mr. Crawford. He inquired the location of the boarding

house, and imprudently decided to act on his companion's proposal.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXXI.

 

THE TRAP.

 

 

Andy left the depot with his new acquaintance, who gave his name as

Percival Robinson, and, following his lead, boarded a horse car, which

took them both a distance of three miles to the southern part of the

city. As they went on, dwellings became scattering.

 

"Your friend's house seems quite out of the way," said Andy.

 

"Yes; but Chicago is a city of distances. It really doesn't make much

difference where you stop. Street cars will carry you anywhere."

 

"Still it would be pleasanter to be centrally located."

 

"But by going some way out you get cheaper accommodations."

 

"That is true," thought Andy; "and I have time enough."

 

At length Robinson signaled to the conductor to stop.

 

Andy followed him out of the car. They seemed to be in the very

outskirts of the city.

 

Robinson led the way to a rather shabby brick house standing by itself.

It was three stories in height.

 

"This is where my friend lives," he said, walking up the front steps and

ringing the front-door bell.

 

Two minutes later the door was opened by a red-haired man in his shirt

sleeves.

 

"Hello, Tom!" he exclaimed.

 

"I thought his name was Percival," Andy said to himself.

 

"My young friend and I will stay overnight with you," said Robinson.

 

"All right. Come in."

 

A door on the left was opened, and Andy saw a sanded floor, and on one

side of the room a bar.

 

"Go in there a minute," said Robinson, "while I speak to my friend."

 

Andy went in, and picked up a copy of the _Clipper_ from the table--the

only paper in the room.

 

In five minutes the two returned.

 

"I'll take your gripsack," said the man in shirt sleeves. "I will show

you to your room."

 

They went up two flights of stairs to a room on the third floor. It was

a small apartment about ten feet square, with a double bed in one

corner.

 

"I guess you'll both be comfortable here," said the landlord.

 

"I think I would rather have a room to myself," said Andy, by no means

satisfied.

 

"Sorry we can't accommodate you, but the house is full."

 

It didn't look so, but then the lodgers might be out.

 

Andy thought for a moment he would go downstairs, and take a car back to

the central part of the city, but he was afraid his action would seem

strange, and he made no objection.

 

"I guess we'll get along together," said Robinson, in an easy tone.

 

Andy didn't think so, but he found it awkward to make objections.

 

"I will take a wash," he said, seeing that the pitcher on the washstand

contained water.

 

"All right!" returned Robinson. "Just make yourself at home. I'll go

downstairs. You'll find me there."

 

Left alone, Andy reproached himself for his too ready yielding to the

plans of his companion. He wondered why he had done so.

 

"Mr. Crawford didn't ask me to be economical," he reflected. "He is

willing I should pay ordinary prices at a hotel. I think I have been

very foolish. However, I am in for it. It will serve as a lesson to me,

which I will remember hereafter."

 

He looked out of the window. There was a lot behind the hotel--if it was

a hotel--covered with ashes, tin cans, and other litter.

 

"I am sure," thought Andy, "this isn't the kind of hotel Mr. Crawford

wished me to stay at."

 

When he had washed he went downstairs. As he passed the door of the

barroom he saw Mr. Robinson inside, sitting at the table, with a bottle

and a glass before him.

 

"Come in, Grant, and have some whisky," he said.

 

"Thank you, but I don't care for whisky."

 

"Perhaps you would prefer beer?"

 

"I don't care to drink anything, thank you."

 

"You don't mean to say you're a temperance crank?"

 

"Yes, I think I am."

 

"Oh, well, do just as you please. By the way, it is the rule here to pay

for board in advance."

 

"How much is it?"

 

"A dollar and a quarter, please," said this red-haired man, who stood

behind the bar.

 

Andy paid over the money.

 

"I thought perhaps you would stay more than one day."

 

"No, I have little time. I shall have to leave to-morrow. I think, Mr.

Robinson, I will go out and take a walk."

 

"All right! Supper will be ready in two hours."

 

Andy nodded.

 

He had a great mind to go upstairs and get his gripsack. Then he would

be able to go where he pleased. He went out and began to walk about in

the neighborhood of the hotel.

 

It did not seem to be a very pleasant quarter of the city, and it was

certainly a good distance from the center.

 

"I sha'n't learn much about Chicago if I stay here," he thought.

 

Again he execrated his folly in so weakly yielding to the

representations of a man he knew nothing about.

 

He walked for half an hour and then returned slowly. There didn't seem

to be much to look at, and his walk had no interest for him.

 

Not far from the hotel he met a well-dressed boy, and was impelled to

speak to him.

 

"Do you live near by?" he asked.

 

"No, but I have an uncle living in that house over there. I came to

spend the day with my cousins."

 

"I am a stranger in this city. I met a man who took me to that brick

house. He recommended it as a cheap boarding place. Do you know anything

about it?"

 

"I know that it has a bad reputation."

 

"Will you tell me what you know about it? You will be doing me a favor."

 

"The bar does a good business in the evening. I have heard of several

cases where men who put up there complained of being robbed."

 

"Thank you. I am not much surprised to hear it."

 

"Have you taken a room there?"

 

"Yes. I am afraid I was foolish."

 

"I hope you won't be robbed--that's all."

 

"I should like to get out, but I am afraid if I come downstairs with my

grip they would try to stop my going."

 

"Where is your room?"

 

"At the back part of the house, looking out on the lot."

 

"I'll tell you what you can do," said the other boy, after a moment's

thought. "Have you paid anything for your room?"

 

"Yes, but I don't mind that."

 

"Then drop your grip out of the window. I'll catch it."

 

"I will."

 

"Then you can take a car and go down into the city."

 

"Do you know the way to the Sherman House?"

 

"Certainly."

 

"If you will go there with me, I'll make it worth your while."

 

"All right. I was just about going home, anyway."

 

"Then I'll go upstairs and get my bag."

 

Andy went to his room, opened the window, and, looking down, saw his new

boy friend.

 

"Are you ready?" he asked.

 

"Yes."

 

"You needn't try to catch it. There's nothing in it that will break."

 

"Fling her out!"

 

Andy did so.

 

"Now come down. You'll find me here."

 

An hour later supper was served. Percival Robinson and three other men,

likewise patrons of the barroom, sat down. The landlord himself was one

of the party.

 

"Where is the kid?" he asked.

 

"I saw him go out an hour ago," said one of the guests.

 

"He has probably come back and is in his room," said Robinson. "I will

go up and call him."

 

He went upstairs quickly and entered the room assigned to Andy and

himself. It was empty.

 

"The boy has taken a long walk," he said to himself.

 

Then he looked about for Andy's grip. It occurred to him that he would

have a good opportunity to examine its contents.

 

He started in surprise and dismay, for the grip was gone.

 

"He must have given me the slip," he exclaimed.

 

"Did any one see the boy go out with his gripsack?" he asked, as he

returned.

 

"I saw him go out, but he had nothing in his hand," answered the

landlord.

 

"Well, he's gone, bag and baggage," returned Robinson, very much

annoyed.

 

"At any rate, he has paid his bill," said the landlord, complacently.

 

"Bother his hotel bill!" muttered Robinson, roughly. "I meant to have a

good deal more than that."

 

"Have you any idea where he has gone?"

 

"I think he may have gone to the Sherman House. I'll go there after

supper and see if I can find him."

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXXII.

 

A CRITICAL MOMENT.

 

 

Guided by his boy companion, Andy found the Sherman House and registered

there. The change was a very satisfactory one, and he enjoyed the

comfortable room to which he was assigned.

 

After a hearty supper he took a seat in the office and watched with

interest the crowds that surged in and out of the hotel. Presently he

saw a familiar figure entering.

 

It was his late companion, Percival Robinson. The latter was not long in

recognizing the boy.

 

He walked up to the chair on which Andy was seated and addressed him

with a look of anger.

 

"So I have found you, have I?" he said, roughly.

 

Andy knew that this man had no right to interfere with him, and

answered, coolly:

 

"So it seems."

 

"Why did you play me such a mean trick, boy?"

 

"My name is Andrew," said Andy, with dignity. "What right have you to

speak to me in this manner?"

 

"I'll tell you presently. You have made a nice return for my kindness."

 

"I know of no kindness. You got acquainted with me on the train, and

took me to a house where I didn't care to stop."

 

"Why didn't you care to stop there?"

 

"Because I found that it didn't have a good reputation. My employer

wouldn't care to have me stay at such a house."

 

"You are mighty independent for a young boy. I want you to return the

pocketbook of which you relieved me."

 

Andy was startled at this reckless charge.

 

"What do you mean?" he demanded, hotly. "You know that this is a

falsehood."

 

"We'll see if you will brazen it out. If you don't give me back the

pocketbook, which I have no doubt you have in your pocket at this

moment, I will have you arrested."

 

Andy began to feel nervous. He was a stranger in Chicago. There was no

one to identify him or vouch for his honesty. What if this man should

carry out his threat and have him arrested?

 

However, Andy had pluck, and didn't intend to surrender at discretion.

 

This conversation had attracted the attention of two or three guests of

the hotel, who were disposed to look with suspicion upon Andy. His

accuser appeared like a man of good position, being well dressed and

with an air of assurance.

 

One old gentleman, who was fond of giving advice, said, reprovingly:

 

"My boy, you will find it best to hand the gentleman his pocketbook. It

is sad to see one so young guilty of theft."

 

"Perhaps the boy is not guilty," suggested another guest.

 

"I am in the employ of a gentleman in New York," said Andy, "and this

man is scheming to rob me."

 

"You are perfectly shameless!" said Robinson, encouraged by what the

old gentleman had said. "I will give you just five minutes to return my

pocketbook, or I will have you arrested."

 

Andy felt that he was in a tight place, but his wits had not deserted

him.

 

"As you claim the pocketbook," he said, "perhaps you will tell how much

money there is in it."

 

"I can't tell exactly," replied Robinson. "I spend money liberally, and

I have not counted the money lately."

 

"That is quite reasonable," said the old gentleman. "I don't know how

much money there is in my wallet."

 

"What is there besides money in the pocketbook?" asked Andy following up

his advantage.

 

"I think there are a few postage stamps," answered Robinson at a guess.

 

"You certainly have a good deal of assurance, young man," said the old

gentleman in a tone of reproof. "If I were in this gentleman's place I

would summon a policeman at once."

 

"I prefer to give the boy a chance," said Robinson, who had his own

reasons for not bringing the matter to the knowledge of the police. "I

don't want to get him into trouble. I only want my money back."

 

"You are more considerate than he deserves," said Andy's critic. "And by

the way, here is the hotel detective. Officer, will you come here,

please? Here is a case that requires your attention."

 

The hotel detective, a quiet-looking man, approached.

 

Robinson was far from thanking the old gentleman for his officiousness.

He feared recognition.

 

"What is the matter?" asked the detective, coming up and eying Robinson

sharply.

 

The old gentleman volunteered an explanation.

 

The detective seemed amused.

 

"So this man charges the boy with robbing him?" he asked.

 

"Yes, sir; and we all believe that he has good grounds for doing so."

 

"I don't believe it," said the gentleman who had already spoken for

Andy.

 

"What have you to say, my boy?" asked the detective, turning to Andy.