SPINNING THE WEB
There was a short interval before the play commenced. This Andy
improved by examining the large stock of curiosities which have been
gathered from all parts of the world for the gratification of
visitors. Fairfax kept at his side, and spoke freely of all they saw.
There was something about him which seemed to Andy strangely familiar.
Was it in his features, or in his voice? He could not tell. The red
whig and whiskers misled him. Andy finally set it down as a mere
chance resemblance to someone whom he had met formerly, and dismissed
it from his mind.
At length the increasing crowds pouring into the lecture-room reminded
them that the play was about to begin.
"Shall we go in and take our seats?" said Fairfax.
Andy assented, and they were speedily in their seats.
I do not propose to speak of the play. It was a novelty to Andy to see
a dramatic representation, and he thoroughly enjoyed it. Fairfax was
more accustomed to such things, but pretended to be equally
interested, feeling that in this way he could ingratiate himself
better into Andy's confidence.
At last it was over, and they went out of the building.
"How did you like it?" asked Fairfax.
"Tiptop," said Andy, promptly. "Don't you think so?"
"Capital," answered Fairfax, with simulated delight. "I am glad I had
company. I don't enjoy anything half as well alone. By the way, where
do you pass the night?"
"At some hotel--I don't know which."
"Suppose you go to the Adams House. I've got to stop overnight
somewhere, and it might be pleasanter going in company."
"Where is the Adams House?"
"On Washington Street, not very far off--ten or fifteen minutes'
walk."
"If it's a good place, I'm willing."
"It is an excellent hotel, and moderate in price. We might go up there
now, and engage a room, and then spend the evening where we like."
"Very well," said Andy.
They soon reached the Adams House--a neat, unpretending hotel--and
entered. They walked up to the desk, and Fairfax spoke to the clerk.
"Can you give us a room?"
"Certainly. Enter your names."
"Shall we room together?" asked Fairfax, calmly.
Now Andy, though he had had no objection to going to the theater with
his present companion, did not care to take a room with a stranger, of
whom he knew nothing. He might be a very respectable man, but somehow,
Andy did not know why, there was something in his manner which
inspired a little repulsion. Besides, he remembered that he had
considerable money with him, and that consideration alone rendered it
imprudent for him to put himself in the power of a companion. So he
said, a little awkwardly:
"I think we'd better take separate rooms."
"Very well," said Fairfax, in a tone of indifference, though he really
felt very much disappointed. "I thought it might have been a little
more sociable to be together."
Andy did not take the hint, except so far as to say:
"We can take rooms alongside of each other."
"I can give you adjoining rooms, if you desire," said the clerk.
Fairfax here entered his name in the hotel register as "Nathaniel
Marvin, Portland, Maine," while Andy put down his real address. His
companion's was, of course, fictitious. He did not venture to give the
name of Fairfax, as that might be recognized by Andy as that of the
highwayman, with whose little plans he had interfered.
A servant was called, and they went up to their rooms, which, as the
clerk had promised, were found to be adjoining. They were precisely
alike.
"Very comfortable, Mr. Burke," said Fairfax, in a tone of apparent
satisfaction. "I think we shall have a comfortable night."
"I guess so," said Andy.
"Are you going to stay here now?"
"No; I'm going to wash my face, and then take a walk around. I want to
see something of the city."
"I think I'll lie down awhile; I feel tired. Perhaps we shall meet
later. If not, I shall see you in the morning."
"All right," said Andy.
In a few minutes he went out.