AT THE STEAMSHIP OFFICE.
Oliver was astonished and dismayed by the pawnbroker’s statement. What
if the police should think he was the thief? It would cause him no end
of trouble, and might prove the means of compelling him to return home.
“I don’t see what reasons you have for supposing the things are not
mine,” he began.
“I do not say they are not,” was the reply. “In fact, I must say you
look thoroughly honest. But, as I said before, we must be careful. We
cannot afford to take in things that have been stolen and then give
them up to the police.”
Oliver sank down in a chair. He had but a short ten minutes to wait,
but the time seemed an eternity.
He was glad to see the clerk return alone.
“It’s all right,” were his words. “The goods taken were recovered an
hour ago.”
How relieved Oliver felt! He sprang to his feet.
“Please give me the pin,” he said.
The man handed it over.
“I am sorry I suspected you,” he said. “But business is business.”
“I suppose it is.”
“I thought you wanted to pawn that pin?”
“So I do; but I shall take it elsewhere now.”
And without waiting to be questioned further, Oliver hurried from the
place.
About a block down the street he came to a similar establishment――indeed,
the neighborhood was full of them. The proprietor took the pin and
examined it closely.
“What did you give for this pin?” he asked cautiously.
“I did not buy it. My father gave it to me.”
“How much do you want on it?”
Oliver hesitated. He knew he had better place the figure high.
“Seventy-five dollars.”
“The pin did not cost that.”
“It cost more than that.”
“I will let you have forty dollars on it.”
“I must have at least sixty.”
Finally a compromise was effected, and Oliver received his ticket and
fifty dollars.
“That makes one hundred and ten dollars for the two,” he said to
himself when on the street once more; “and that, added to what I have
saved up from my spending money, gives me a capital of one hundred
and eighty-five dollars. By hook or by crook that amount must see me
through.”
From the pawnbroker’s Oliver made his way to lower Broadway, where the
steamship office was located. It was a busy place, and the boy was
compelled to wait for his turn.
While he stood in line he meditated on what he would have to pay for a
ticket. If there was any such thing as going second or third class he
intended to do so. In his present straitened circumstances every dollar
counted.
Suddenly a young man behind him touched him on the elbow and said,――
“Say, do you know if they take back tickets here?”
“What do you mean?” asked Oliver.
“I mean tickets to California. I have a ticket for Wednesday’s steamer
and I can’t go because my uncle has just died, and I must take charge
of part of his business.”
“I don’t know,” said Oliver. “I am just here to buy a ticket for
myself,” he continued.
“Is that so? Then let me sell you mine. I paid eighty dollars for it,
and I’ll let you have it for sixty; that is, if they won’t take it
back.”
“Is that the cheapest passage?”
“It is on the regular lines.”
“Then I’ll take it, if they won’t take it back.”
At the desk it was found that the ticket could be exchanged for a later
boat, but could not be canceled. As the young man did not know whether,
under the present condition of things, he would go to California or
not, he decided to sell the ticket to Oliver; and the transfer was made
on the spot.
Oliver was told that the boat would leave at ten o’clock Wednesday
morning from the pier on the North River. He made a note of the time
and the number of the pier, and then quitted the place.
As he did so, he ran plump into a man who was hurrying up the steps.
“I beg your pardon!” he exclaimed. “I did not mean”――
And then he stopped short. And small wonder. The man he had encountered
was Colonel Mendix!
In all his life Oliver was never more astonished. He knew not what to
say or do.
Colonel Mendix, having seen him but once, and that many years previous,
did not recognize the boy. He stepped back, then passed Oliver, and
entered the steamship office.
“Has the Rosabel sailed yet?” Oliver heard him ask.
“Yes, sir; half an hour ago.”
“Ha, too bad! And the next steamer?”
“Sails Wednesday.”
“Was there a passenger on the Rosabel named Whyland――Thomas Whyland?”
continued the colonel anxiously.
The clerk looked over the register.
“No, sir.”
“You are sure?”
“His name is not here. If he was aboard he must have sailed on some one
else’s ticket.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you.”
Colonel Mendix turned and left the building. Almost mechanically Oliver
followed him.
He knew not what to make of the unexpected meeting. Had Mendix just
returned from South America or had he never been to that country?
“I must find out,” thought the boy. “Perhaps if I discover his business
here I may be able to find out something about the Aurora mine also. I
wish I had caught the name of the man he asked for.”
He had the day before him, and also Tuesday, and he resolved to make
good use of the time. Who knew but what he might be able to gain a deal
of information before starting for the West?
Colonel Mendix walked rapidly up Broadway until he reached Trinity
Church. Then he crossed over and hurried down Wall Street. Oliver was
close behind and saw him enter an office not far away.
Walking past the place, he read the sign,――
EZRA DODGE & CO.,
California Mining Stocks,
over the door. He would have liked to follow Colonel Mendix inside,
but could find no pretext for so doing until he noticed a slip on the
window which read,――
FREE CIRCULARS INSIDE.
Entering the place, he saw that the colonel had taken a seat within
the office railing and was in earnest conversation with an elderly
gentleman, presumably Mr. Dodge.
Oliver stepped up to a clerk in charge.
“Will you kindly give me a circular of stocks?” he asked.
“Certainly,” was the reply. “Think of investing?”
“I wish to see what you have.”
“Offer you some fine inducements,” said the clerk, handing over a
folded paper.
Oliver opened the circular, and pretended to look it over.
“Now, Dodge, about this Aurora mine,” he heard Colonel Mendix say, and
immediately he was all attention.