William Penrose kept on his way to New York, but Bernard and Mr.
Stackpole stopped at Albany.
“I have a little business to attend to here,” said Mr. Stackpole, “so if
you don’t mind, we’ll stay over here a day.”
“All right, sir; I have no pressing business to hurry me on. I have
never been in Albany, and shall be glad to go about and see the city.”
The next morning they took the day boat down the Hudson. The great
steamer was a floating palace, and had every accommodation that could be
desired.
Just before going aboard Bernard bought from a newsboy a copy of the
Albany _Argus_. He glanced rapidly over the contents of the paper, and
his attention was arrested by the account of the mysterious
disappearance of a package of government bonds—five thousand
dollars—from the banking house of Murdock & Co.
“The loss was not discovered till about the close of business,” said the
account. “No one in the office could throw any light upon the matter.
Whether it was an employee or an outside party is uncertain. Mr. Murdock
remembers seeing the package on a desk, but assuming that the clerk was
preparing to put it in the safe, gave no more thought to it till it was
found to be missing. Detectives have the matter in charge, and it is
hoped that the thief will be captured within twenty-four hours.”
Bernard read the account with languid interest. He knew none of the
parties, and had no special reason to dwell on the paragraph.
“Will you allow me to look at your paper?” asked a young man of
twenty-five, dressed in showy style, and carrying a small satchel in his
hand.
“Certainly, sir,” answered Bernard politely.
“Anything interesting in it?” asked the young man languidly.
“There is an account of the theft of some government bonds from Murdock
& Co.”
“Ah, that is a prominent house!”
“I don’t know anything about Albany firms,” said Bernard.
“Then you don’t live in Albany?”
“I never saw the city till yesterday.”
The young man read the paragraph.
“Rather a clever robbery,” he said, in a tone of indifference.
“I think any robbery is foolish,” responded Bernard.
“Yes, of course; that is the proper view to take of it. I suppose you
attend Sunday school?”
There was a lurking sneer in the young man’s tone, as Bernard thought.
“I am not connected with a Sunday school at present,” he said.
“I don’t think Sunday school boys are better than any other.”
“They ought to be.”
“True, but we have to consider facts. Won’t you go down-stairs and drink
a glass of beer?”
“No, thank you.”
“Oh, I forgot that you were a Sunday school boy. Well, ta, ta! I’ll see
you again.”
There was something peculiar about the young man. Though it was a warm
day he wore an ulster, which he never took off. Then he carried round
his portmanteau with him all the time.
During the next two or three hours Bernard saw him several times.
There was something else also that drew his attention to the young man.
He scanned his fellow passengers attentively, rather as if he was afraid
of meeting some objectionable person. He seemed very restless also. He
would seldom stay more than fifteen minutes in one spot.
Bernard had asked him his destination, but he evaded a straightforward
reply.
“I am going wherever the boat does,” he said, with a smile. “How is it
with you?”
“I suppose I shall land in New York.”
“Do you know any one there?”
“Yes, I know Mr. Cornelius McCracken.”
“Never heard of him. Is he an uncle of yours?”
“No, he is my guardian.”
“Your guardian?” repeated the young man, with interest. “Then you have
property?”
“I don’t think so. Mr. McCracken says I have none.”
“Then what is the use of a guardian?”
“Not much. Probably he will throw me off.”
“Why?”
“Because I have run away from a school where he placed me.”
“Humph! Why did you do that?”
“I was not well treated. The teacher wanted to whip me.”
“And you objected?” said the young man, laughing.
“Yes.”
“I can’t blame you. I should have acted in the same way probably. Who is
that man I have seen with you—he looks like a Yankee.”
“He is an acquaintance I made yesterday.”
“Are you traveling with him?”
“Yes.”
“He has a Western look.”
“I think he has been a miner in Colorado.”
“So. Has he much money, do you think?” Bernard began to think his
companion too inquisitive, and he answered shortly, “I don’t know.”
“Hasn’t told you, I suppose. Well, I shouldn’t mind going out West
myself and trying mining.”
“What business are you in?” asked Bernard, thinking he had a right to
ask questions also.
“I am a traveling man,” answered the young man, after a slight
hesitation.
They passed Newburg early in the afternoon. Shortly after reaching this
place, as Bernard was sitting on a bench on the upper deck, his friend
in the ulster came up to him hurriedly.
“Please take charge of my portmanteau a few minutes,” he said, “if it
won’t be too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” replied Bernard politely.
The portmanteau was a small one, and it was hard to conjecture from its
appearance what it might contain. Upon this point, however, Bernard was
not curious.
“It can’t contain anything very valuable,” he reflected, “or the owner
would hardly trust a stranger with it.”
They reached Newburg, and remained some time. Bernard thought of going
down to the lower deck, but it occurred to him that the owner of the
portmanteau might come back for it and be unable to find him. This was
rather embarrassing and he felt sorry that he had been so obliging as to
assume charge of property not his own.
As they left Newburg he went to the rear part of the boat, and took a
look at the place. He knew from the history he studied in school that
Washington had at one time had his headquarters here. If there had been
time he would have liked to have gone on shore. But even then he could
hardly have done so with the portmanteau in charge.
He fixed his eyes carelessly upon the historic town, not expecting to
see anything of special interest.
He was destined to a great surprise. There on the pier stood the young
man in the ulster. He could not mistake him. Not alone the ulster, but
the scanty yellowish mustache and pallid complexion betrayed him.
“He must have been left behind!” thought Bernard, “and I have his
portmanteau!”
He took another look at the young man in the ulster. Certainly be
betrayed no signs of having been left against his will. He stood in a
careless position with a quiet and composed face, looking at the great
steamer as it steadily widened the distance between him and his late
companion.
Bernard was very much puzzled.
“He doesn’t seem to care. Does he remember that I have his portmanteau?”
he asked himself.
He tried to attract the young man’s attention, but in vain.
“What shall I do?” he asked himself. “I don’t know the name of the man
who intrusted me with the valise. I wonder if there is any name on it.”
He examined it, but found nothing to indicate the identity of the owner.
“I must ask Mr. Stackpole what to do,” thought Bernard. “It is certainly
a queer position to be in. I may find it necessary to open the
portmanteau, and ascertain the contents.”
He looked around the boat in search of Mr. Stackpole; but the steamer
was large and quite crowded. Then there were so many divisions to it
that somehow he missed seeing his mining friend. There was nothing now
to interfere with his going where he liked, as there was no chance of
the young man in the ulster looking for him.
At length he sat down again, and became interested in a German family
where there were three or four young children. He got on quite sociable
terms with a roguish looking young boy named Herman. Bernard was fond of
children, and easily won their sympathy and attachment.
A small man dressed in a drab suit came up-stairs and looked keenly
about him. Finally his glance rested upon Bernard and his portmanteau.
He stepped up to Bernard and said, in a tone of quiet authority, “Young
man, I would like to examine that portmanteau.”
[Illustration: 083]
Bernard looked up in surprise.
“The portmanteau is not mine,” he said. “What do you want of it?”
“Nevertheless, I must look at it.”
Bernard still hesitated.
“Come,” said the other firmly, “it won’t be wise for you to object. I am
a detective.”