A VISIT TO MR. ANNISTER
Roy turned and looked at the boy who had made the somewhat insulting
remark.
"I beg your pardon, stranger," he replied in his western drawl. "I
didn't quite catch your remark."
"Aw, come off!" slangily replied the brass-buttoned boy, one of many in
the hotel employed to show guests to their rooms whenever summoned by a
bell rung by the clerk. "What are you, anyhow? Selling patent
medicine or some Indian cure?" For Roy plainly showed the effect of
his western life, his hair being a little longer than it is worn in the
east, his clothes rather too large for him, and his broad-brimmed hat
quite conspicuous.
"So you think I'm rustling medicine, eh?" he asked the boy.
"I don't know what you're 'rustling' but I know if you try to sell
anything in this joint, you'll get the poke, see!"
Roy began to think the language of the East was almost as effective as
that of the West in expressing ideas.
"I'm not selling medicine, stranger," Roy went on, using the term he
had picked up among the cowboys when they meet one whom they do not
know. "I'm going to put up at this bunk-house, I reckon."
"That's a good one!" exclaimed the boy with a laugh. "What Wild West
show are you from? This is no theatrical boarding house. Better beat
it out of here before the clerk sees you."
But the talk between the two boys had been overheard by the clerk, who,
in a hotel, holds authority next to the owner.
"What's the trouble there, Number twenty-six?" he asked, addressing the
bell boy.
"Aw, here's a guy what t'inks he's goin' to stay here an' sell patent
medicines," replied the boy.
"What's that? Of course we don't allow any peddling schemes in the
hotel. Send him out."
"I did, but he won't go."
"Your boy is mistaken, stranger," replied Roy, walking up to the desk,
and looking around for Mortimer De Royster, who, it seemed, had been
delayed in speaking to a friend. Several men in the hotel lobby drew
near and listened with interest to what was going on. "I came here to
put up at this hotel," went on Roy. "I was sent here by a friend of
mine."
"We don't take theatrical people," said the clerk, stiffly.
"I'm not from a theatre. I tell you my friend sent me here. He'll be
here himself in a minute."
The clerk did not look very much impressed, and Roy feared he was going
to order him out of the hotel. The boy did not want to be thus
publicly put to shame.
"Who's your friend?" asked the clerk.
"Mr. Mortimer De Royster."
"Oh, that's all right!" exclaimed the clerk with a great change of
manner. "Any friend of Mr. De Royster is welcome. Boy, take the
gentleman's grip. What sort of a room would you like?"
The bell boy, who had thought to put Roy out of the place, was obliged
much against his will to take his valise.
"That's all right," said Roy good-naturedly to the boy. "I can carry
my baggage. It isn't heavy. I don't know that I'm going to stop here
after all. I think--"
Just then De Royster came pushing his way through the little crowd
about the desk.
"Hello, Charlie!" he exclaimed, addressing the clerk. "How are you,
old chap? Looking fine, upon my word!"
"Good afternoon, Mr. De Royster," replied the clerk cordially,
extending his hand. "Glad to see you. So you're back from your trip?"
"Yes, but I came pretty near not coming. Might not be alive if it
wasn't for my friend, Mr. Bradner, here. By the way, I want you to
give him the best in the house. He's a great friend of mine. Treat
him well."
"Of course we shall. We were just going to give him a good
room--er--ahem, Mr. Bradner, will you please register?" and he swung
the book around on the desk, dipping a pen in an ink bottle at the same
time.
Roy hesitated, and smiled just a little. He was contrasting the
treatment he might have received if Mr. De Royster had not been there.
"What's the matter?" asked the jewelry salesman, seeing that something
unusual had taken place.
"Oh, nothing much," replied Roy. "They took me for a member of a Wild
West show, I guess, and they were a little doubtful whether they'd let
me bunk here or not."
"Ahem! All a mistake! It was the bell boy's fault," said the clerk,
somewhat embarrassed.
"Here, Number twenty-six, take the gentleman's grip. Any friend of
yours, Mr. De Royster, is doubly welcome here. We can give you a fine
room, Mr. Bradner."
"All right," replied Roy, good naturedly. "I'll take one."
"I'll select it for you," put in Mr. De Royster, as he was in some
doubt as to Roy's finances, and he did not want to take too extravagant
an apartment.
Roy was soon shown to a pleasant room, Mortimer accompanying him.
Every one connected with the hotel seemed anxious to aid the boy from
the ranch, now that it was shown he had wealthy friends. Roy thought
De Royster must be a person of some influence. He was partly right,
though the influence came more from the rich and respected relatives of
the young jewelry salesman, than from himself. However, it answered
the same purpose.
"I am sorry you were annoyed by that clerk, my dear chap," said De
Royster, when he was seated in the room he had selected for Roy. "I
was unavoidably detained, speaking to a friend I met, don't you know."
"It's all right," replied Roy. "It all adds to my experience, and I
expect to get a lot of it while I'm in the East."
"What are your next plans?"
"Well, I hardly know. I have certain business to do for my father, but
I hardly know how to set about it."
"Perhaps I can tell you."
"I wish you could."
"If it is a secret don't tell me," said De Royster, noting that Roy
hesitated.
"It is a sort of a secret mission. I'm here to round up a man, and see
what sort of branding marks he has on him--that is, whether he's honest
or not."
"That is a queer mission for a boy like you to be sent on."
"Perhaps, but my father had no one else. I will tell you as much as I
can, and see what you have to say."
Thereupon Roy told his friend about the real estate matter, and Mr.
Annister's connection with it, though he mentioned no names.
"Let me consider it a bit," said the dude, when Roy had finished. The
latter began to think his friend was more capable than had at first
appeared, and, in spite of his rather affected talk, could be relied
upon for good advice.
"Here is what I would do, in your place," said De Royster, at length.
"I would get my hair cut, order a new suit of clothes or perhaps two
and appear as much as possible like a New Yorker, don't you know. You
say you don't want that man to know you are here from the ranch. Well,
he certainly would if you appeared before him as you are now. But, if
you--er--well, we'll say 'spruce up' a bit, you can be sure he'll never
connect you with the West. Then you can make whatever inquiries you
like."
"That's good advice. I'll follow it. I'm much obliged to you."
"Don't mention it, my dear chap. Now, old man"--(Roy thought it was
strange to be addressed as "old man")--"I've got to go. I'll leave you
my card, and address, and, if you get into trouble, why, telephone or
call on me. Now, good luck."
He shook hands with Roy and left. The boy from the ranch was a little
lonesome after De Royster had gone, but he knew he would from now on,
very probably have to rely on himself, and he decided to start in at
once.
After supper he went to the hotel barber shop, and had his hair cut to
the length it was worn by New Yorkers. He wanted to go out and get a
new suit, but he knew the clothing stores would not be open at night.
His trunk arrived the next morning, and, having arranged his things in
his room, the boy from the ranch set out to buy some new garments,
following De Royster's advice.
"Well, I certainly don't look like a cowboy now," thought Roy, as he
surveyed himself in the glass, after the change. "Now to call on Mr.
Annister. I don't believe he'll suspect me of being on his trail."
A little later Roy was on his way down-town, having inquired from the
clerk how to get to the office of the real estate agent. He was soon
at the place, a big office building, in which several firms had their
quarters.
He got in the express elevator, which went up at a speed that took away
his breath, and was let out at the twentieth floor, where the real
estate agent had his rooms.
"Is Mr. Annister in?" Roy asked the office boy.
"I don't know. What's your business?"
"My business is with Mr. Annister."
"What's your name?"
"That doesn't matter. Tell Mr. Annister I called to see him regarding
the renting of some property on Bleecker street," for that was where
the building was located in which Roy and his father were interested.
"All right. I'll tell him, but I don't believe he'll see you," replied
the office boy, not very good-naturedly, as he went into an inner room.
In a little while he returned and said:
"Walk in. He'll see you a few minutes, but he's very busy."
A few seconds later Roy stood in the presence of Caleb Annister.