A NEW ACQUAINTANCE
"HOW will you have it?" asked the teller.
"In fives and tens."
In a short time a thick roll of bills was handed to Gerald which he put
in his inside vest-pocket.
A man just behind him was waiting his turn, and Gerald turned away and
left the bank. He would have felt less tranquil had he known that he was
being watched by a tall, thin man who was hovering near the door. When
Gerald left the bank this man followed him at a distance. Gerald paused
at a street stand, where there was a display of knives at low prices. He
bought one with three blades for fifty cents, and turning into Ann
Street, then as now occupied by pedlers displaying their stock in trade
in wagons, he walked along slowly, curiously interested in the goods on
exhibition.
He was looking at some wallets when the tall man, who had arranged his
campaign, tapped him on the shoulder.
Gerald turned in surprise.
"How are you, Jack? When did you come to the city?" asked the man,
heartily.
"You have made a mistake," said Gerald. "My name is not Jack."
"Are'n't you Jack Mortimer of New Rochelle?" said the other in apparent
surprise.
"No; my name is Gerald Lane."
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Lane, but you are the exact picture of Jack.
Jack is a fine looking boy of sixteen and my very good friend."
Gerald was human, and this adroit flattery impressed him favorably.
"Then I am sorry I am not Jack," he said, smiling.
"You don't need to wish yourself any one else," said the man,
significantly. "Then you don't come from New Rochelle?"
"No; I am from Portville."
"Portville?" repeated the other, musing. "I don't think I know any one
in Portville. I suppose you are in the city for the day?"
"I may stay longer."
"I wish you could spare time to call at my house. I should like to have
my wife see you. She knows Jack Mortimer well, and I am curious to see
whether she would be deceived by the resemblance as I was. By the way,
let me introduce myself. My name is Brand—William Brand."
"I am glad to have met you, Mr. Brand."
"Don't you think you could go up to my house and take lunch?"
"Where do you live?" asked Gerald.
It occurred to him that he really had nothing to occupy his time, and
might find it agreeable to accept Mr. Brand's invitation.
"On West Twelfth Street, near Sixth Avenue. We could go up on the Sixth
Avenue cars. If you are not familiar with New York, I might, perhaps,
point out some landmarks on the way. But it is rather early. Isn't there
anything I could show you down here?"
"I have always wanted to cross the Brooklyn Bridge."
"It is close at hand. Come with me and we will cross it."
"I shouldn't like to take up your time, Mr. Brand."
"Don't mention it. I am having a vacation this week, at any rate, so
that it will be no inconvenience to me."
"Then I will accept your kind invitation."
The man turned and led the way up Nassau Street, and then by the World
building till he reached the entrance to the bridge. Gerald surveyed it
with great interest.
"There is one thing I remember in connection with the bridge," said
Brand. "I was the first man to cross it on the day it was thrown open to
the public."
"Is that really so?"
"Fact, I assure you. I was nearly crushed in the crowd, but I was
determined that I would do it and I succeeded."
They went up the stairs and Brand bought two train-tickets, insisting on
paying for both.
"If we had time we should find it agreeable to walk," he said, "but it
would take a good while, and I want to take you up-town."
Gerald felt that he was in luck to have met so pleasant and obliging a
companion. He did not examine Brand critically, or he might not have
formed so favorable an opinion of him. He had a long, thin face, very
dark, and with his eyes very near together. But Gerald was not skilled
in physiognomy, and it never occurred to him to doubt the sincerity and
good faith of Mr. William Brand.
As they rode over the bridge Brand pointed out different objects and
buildings, and called Gerald's attention with a laugh to the enormous
chair which, in those days, was near the Brooklyn terminus of the
bridge.
"That is the mayor's chair," he said.
"He must be an unusually large man," said Gerald, "if he requires so
large a chair."
When they reached Brooklyn they walked a short distance on Fulton
Street, and then Brand proposed to return.
"Brooklyn is a large city," he said, "and we can't undertake to see it
in a few minutes. We will take the cars back, and then go to my house
up-town."
"Very well, Mr. Brand," replied Gerald.
They boarded a return car, Brand paying the fare again.
"I don't want you to pay for me, Mr. Brand," said Gerald.
"Oh, that's all right," said Brand, carelessly. "You may pay on the
Sixth Avenue cars on the other side."
"You are certainly very kind to me."
"Don't mention it. You don't seem like a stranger; you seem so much like
Bill Mortimer."
"I thought you said his name was Jack Mortimer."
"So it is. I am very shaky on names. Perhaps it is because I am getting
old."
This seemed a plausible explanation of his slip of the tongue, and
Gerald accepted it.
They left the bridge and crossed the City Hall Park. While crossing it
Brand was accosted by an ill-looking man with a cast in his eye.
"Friend of yours?" he asked, staring at Gerald.
"Yes."
"Introduce me, won't you?"
"Some other time," muttered Brand, not seeming very well pleased.
"I see. You want him all to yourself," and he winked in a disagreeable
way.
Brand hastily bade him good-day, and hurried Gerald across the park.
"Is that a friend of yours?" asked Gerald, curiously.
"No, or, rather, he was once. He was an old school-fellow of mine, and
though he has not turned out very well, I can't give him the cold
shake."
This was a new expression to Gerald, but he had no difficulty in
understanding it.
"I am sorry to say he is a victim of intemperance," proceeded Brand. "I
hope you don't drink?"
"No, certainly not," answered Gerald.
"Nor I. I drank some as a young man, but I soon saw the folly of it, and
broke it off."
Mr. Brand's appearance hardly bore him out in this statement. His nose
was decidedly red, and his complexion mottled. Still Gerald never
doubted his assurance. He began to think Brand a man of exemplary
habits.
They took the Sixth Avenue cars near the Astor House, and started
up-town. Brand signaled the conductor to stop at Twelfth Street, and
then turned toward Seventh Avenue. He stopped at a brick house half way
down the block, and opened the door with a pass-key. The hall into which
he led the way was rather dingy, and the interior suggested a
tenement-house.
"I am not very well satisfied with this house," said Brand, "and I shall
probably soon make a change. I came here to oblige the landlady, who is
an old friend of mine, and was finding it difficult to pay the rent. I
wish I could live in the country. Everything is so much neater there. I
was born in the country, but my business requires me to live in New
York."
"I don't think I should like to live in the city," said Gerald.
"Of course it is a better place for a business man. You may come to live
here in time."
"Perhaps so."
By this time they had reached a room on the third floor. Brand opened
the door and led the way in. It was a long, narrow room, with one window
at the end, and was very plainly furnished. The bed did not appear to
have been made, and there was a dirty towel hanging over the back of a
chair. Gerald was certainly surprised. He supposed that Brand had a
comfortable home. In fact, he thought he occupied a whole house, as was
the case with those whom he knew in Portville.
"Isn't your wife at home?" he asked, for he saw no signs of a woman's
occupation.
"My wife?" asked Brand, looking surprised.
"Yes; you said you wanted your wife to see me, on account of my
resemblance to Jack Mortimer."
"Oh, yes; of course. It didn't occur to me that my wife had gone over to
Brooklyn to spend the day."
There was something in his tone and in the surroundings that excited
Gerald's suspicion for the first time.
"I think if that is the case, Mr. Brand, I will not stay," he said.
Brand did not reply, but deliberately locked the door and put the key in
his pocket.
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