ROBBED IN THE NIGHT
Herbert entered the cars, and took a seat by the window. His small
bundle, containing all the extra clothing he had been able to bring away
from the inhospitable home of Mr. Holden, he placed in the seat beside
him.
It was yet early, and there were but few persons in the car. But as the
hour for starting approached, it gradually filled up. Still, the seat
next to Herbert remained untaken.
At length a young man, apparently about nineteen, walked up the aisle,
and, pausing, inquired, “Is this seat engaged?”
“No,” said Herbert, at the same time removing his bundle.
“Then, if you have no objection, I'll take possession.”
He accordingly seated himself, and commenced a conversation.
“Going to New York?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Herbert.
“Do you live there?”
“No; I have never been there before.”
“Are you going on a visit?”
“No; I am going to live there; that is, if I can find anything to do.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“So am I. Suppose we hitch teams.”
“I don't understand.”
“Suppose we go to some hotel together. I have been there before, and can
tell you where to go. It's awful dull being alone. I always like to pick
up company.”
Herbert hardly knew what to say to this proposition. He did not exactly
like the appearance, or fancy the free and easy manners of his new
acquaintance, but he felt lonely, and, besides, he hardly knew what
excuse to make. He, therefore, gave his assent to the arrangement
proposed.
“What's your name?” asked his new friend, familiarly.
“Herbert Mason.”
“Mine is Greenleaf--Peter Greenleaf. Have you come from a distance?”
“From Waverley, in Ohio, not far from Cincinnati.”
“I am from Philadelphia. I've been in a store there, but I didn't like
the style, and I concluded to go to New York. There's more chance for a
fellow of enterprise there.”
“What sort of a store were you in?”
“Dry-goods store--Hatch & Macy. Old Hatch is a mean skinflint, and
wouldn't pay me half what I was worth. I don't want to brag, but there
wasn't a man in that store that sold as much as I did. And how much do
you think I got?”
“I don't know.”
“Only seven dollars a week. If I hadn't made something another way. I
couldn't have paid my expenses.”
“I should think you might live on seven dollars a week.”
This was before the war had increased the expenses of living.
“Couldn't do it. Board cost me four dollars a week, and that only left
three for other expenses. My cigars cost me nearly that. Then I wanted
to go to the theater now and then, and, of course, I must dress like a
gentleman. I tell you what, seven dollars a week didn't begin to do me.”
“How did you manage, then?”
“Oh, I made so much more by banking.”
“By banking?” repeated Herbert, in astonishment.
“Yes; only it was a faro bank. I used to pick up considerable that way,
sometimes.”
“A faro bank!” repeated Herbert, in dismay. “Why, that's the same as
gambling, isn't it?”
“Well, what's the odds? You take your chance, and you may win or lose.
It's a pretty fair thing.”
After this confession, Herbert became more than ever doubtful whether he
should care to remain long in the company of his present companion.
Meanwhile, the cars were moving rapidly. Peter Greenleaf, as he called
himself, talked volubly, and appeared to have a considerable familiarity
with certain phases of life, the knowledge of which was not likely to
have been very profitable to him. Still, Herbert was interested in his
communications, though the opinion which he formed of him was far from
favorable.
“Where are you going to stop when you get to New York?” inquired Peter.
“I don't know anything about the city. I suppose I shall have to go to a
hotel first.”
“Suppose we go to French's Hotel?”
“Where is that?”
“Near the park. It's on the European plan. You pay fifty cents a day for
your rooms, and whatever you please for your meals.”
“I think I shall like that. I shall want to get into a boarding-house as
soon as possible.”
“All right. We'll take a room together at the hotel.”
This arrangement was not to Herbert's taste, but he did not care to
offend his companion by objecting to it, so by his silence, he gave
consent.
“What are you going to do in New York?” he asked.
“I shall look up a situation. I won't take less than fifteen dollars
a week. A man of my experience ought to be worth that. Don't you think
so?”
“Yes,” said Herbert, dubiously, though it occurred to him that if he
were an employer, he would not be likely to engage such a clerk at any
price. But it is rather fortunate, all things considered, that we are
able to keep our thoughts to ourselves, otherwise, the complacency
of our companions, and sometimes our own, would run the risk of being
rudely disturbed.
In course of time the terminus of the road was reached, and, crossing
over from Jersey City, Herbert found himself, for the first time in his
life, in the noise and whirl of the great city.
“And I am actually to live here,” thought Herbert. “I wonder what Mr.
Holden would say if he knew where I was?” Uncertain as his prospects
were, he felt very glad that he was out of the clutches of the petty
despot, whose chief pleasure was to make him uncomfortable. Here, at
least, the future was full of possibilities of good fortune; there, it
was certain discomfort and little to hope for.
“Where is the hotel you spoke of?” he asked, turning to Greenleaf.
“I'll lead you to it.”
They walked up to Broadway, then up by the Astor House, and across the
park to the hotel.
“We'll go in and secure a room the first thing,” he said.
They entered, Greenleaf taking the lead.
“Show us a room with two beds,” said Peter to the clerk.
A servant was summoned, and the room assigned to them was indicated.
“Have you any baggage?” asked the clerk.
“No,” said Greenleaf, carelessly. “Mine was checked through from
Philadelphia. I shan't send for it till morning.”
“Then I must ask you to pay in advance.”
“All right. Fifty cents, isn't it?”
“Yes.”
“Mason,” said Greenleaf, “have you got a dollar about you? I've got
nothing less than a ten.”
Herbert drew out a dollar and paid for himself and his companion.
They were now shown up to a room on the third floor, which proved to be
a very comfortable one, looking out on the street. Herbert was glad to
get a chance to wash himself thoroughly after the dusty journey which he
had just completed. This ceremony over, they went down to the restaurant
connected with the hotel, and took a hearty meal. Greenleaf made an
effort to have Herbert pay for both, but this time Herbert also had a
bill to change. It was rather a suspicious circumstance, he thought,
that Greenleaf, who had no bill smaller than a ten, paid for his meal
out of a one-dollar bill.
After supper Greenleaf bought a couple of cigars, and offered Herbert
one.
“No, thank you,” said our hero.
“Don't you smoke?”
“No.”
“Where have you been living all your life? I couldn't get along without
my cigar.”
“Don't you think it hurtful to a boy to smoke?”
“I don't know about that. I'm a man now, but I've smoked ever since I
was a boy. I think it does a fellow good.”
“But it's expensive.”
“Yes, that's so. I expect I've smoked a thousand dollars' worth of
cigars in the course of my life.”
“Don't you wish you had the money instead?”
“Yes; I should rather like the money, but I shouldn't be half the man
I am if I hadn't smoked. It's mostly milksops that don't smoke. Nothing
personal, you know, Mason.”
“Of course not,” said Herbert, smiling.
“Better have a cigar.”
“No; I guess not.”
“You'll come to it in time. I'll smoke it for you, then.”
After smoking, Greenleaf expressed his intention of going to the
theater. Herbert preferred to go to bed early, feeling rather tired. He
was kept awake at first by the noise of the horse-cars and the bustle
of the street outside, as well as by the exciting thoughts that crowded
upon him, suggested by his actual arrival in the city, where he hoped
to make a place for himself by energy and industry. But at last he fell
asleep.
He slept soundly through the night. But towards morning he had a dream
in which Abner Holden figured. His old employer seemed to be approaching
him with a smile of exultation, and was about to lay violent hands upon
him, when he awoke. It was broad daylight, being already seven o'clock
in the morning. Herbert remembered where he was, and looked across the
room for Greenleaf. But he was not visible. The bed was disarranged, and
evidently had been slept in, but the occupant had risen.
“I didn't think he was a fellow to rise early,” thought Herbert. “I
suppose he is downstairs. I might as well get up, too.”
Herbert jumped out of bed, and, going to the wash-stand, washed his face
and hands. He then proceeded to dress.
“I wonder Greenleaf didn't wake me up,” he thought.
But the reason was too soon made evident. Happening to put his hand
in the pocket where he usually kept his pocketbook, he was startled
at finding it empty. Somewhat alarmed, he began to hunt round upon the
floor, thinking it possible that it might have dropped out. But his
search was vain. It was not to be found. He then examined carefully the
remaining pockets, still without success.
It was not until this moment that a suspicion entered his mind
concerning his companion.
“Is it possible,” he thought, “that Greenleaf has been mean enough to
strip me of my money?”
Herbert did not want to believe this. He disliked to think badly of
anyone, and he still hoped it would prove otherwise. It was barely
possible that Greenleaf had taken his money by way of playing a
practical joke upon him, and he might now be downstairs, waiting to
be amused at Herbert's look of dismay when he discovered that he was
penniless. Drowning men will catch at straws, and Herbert, in his
trouble, tried to think this was probably the way it had happened.
“Greenleaf is rather a hard case, according to his own account,” he said
to himself, “but I can't believe he would be mean enough to rob me. I
will go downstairs and see if I can find him.”
Accordingly, leaving his chamber, he descended the staircase, and made
his way to the office.
Herbert went up and spoke to the clerk who chanced to be inside.
“Have you seen my roommate?” he asked.
“What is the number of your room?”
“No. ----.”
“I remember now. He has gone.”
“Gone!” echoed Herbert, in dismay.
“Yes; didn't you know of it?”
“He went away while I was asleep. How long since did he go?”
“He came to the office two hours since, and said he should not require
the room any longer.”
“Did he leave any message for me?”
“No.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“No.”
Such an expression of dismay and perplexity overspread Herbert's face
that the clerk could not help observing it.
“Is anything wrong?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Herbert. “He has robbed me of my pocketbook, containing all
my money.”
“Whew!” whistled the clerk. “How much had you?”
“About sixty dollars.”
“You're unlucky, that's a fact. Have you nothing left?”
Just then it flashed across Herbert's mind that when he had paid for his
supper he had changed a five-dollar bill, and placed the balance, about
four dollars and a half in his vest pocket. He at once felt in that
pocket, and found it still there. Greenleaf had contented himself with
the pocketbook.
“I have a little left,” he said.
He paid for his room in advance for another day, and went down to
breakfast.