Paul the Peddler; Or, The Fortunes of a Young Street Merchant by Jr. Horatio Alger (ebook reader for comics TXT) 📖

I should know him from your description. I will speak to Mr. Tiffany, and he will no doubt give orders to detain any person who may offer the ring for sale.”

“Thank you.”

“If you will give me your address, we will notify you in case the ring is brought in.”

Paul left his address, and went out of the store, feeling that he had taken one step toward the recovery of his treasure. He next visited the police headquarters, and left a detailed description of the man who had relieved him of the ring and of the circumstances attending the robbery. Then he went home.

His mother looked up as he entered.

“Well, Paul?” she said, inquiringly.

“I've got bad news, mother,” he said.

“What is it? Tell me quick!” she said, nervously.

“The ring has been stolen from me.”

“How did it happen, Paul?”

“First, I must tell you how much the ring is worth. I went up to Tiffany's, and showed the ring to Mr. Tiffany himself. He told me that he would give me two hundred and fifty dollars for it, if I would satisfy him that I had a right to sell it.”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars!” repeated Mrs. Hoffman, in amazement.

“Yes, the diamond is very large and pure.”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars would be a great help to us.”

“Yes, mother, that is what makes me feel so bad about being swindled out of it.”

“Tell me how it happened. Is there no chance of recovering it?”

“A little. I shall do what I can. I have already notified the police, and Mr. Tiffany.”

“You have not told me yet how you lost it.”

When Paul had told the story, his mother asked, “Did you mention it in the cars that you had offered it at Tiffany's?”

“Yes, and I mentioned his offer.”

“Perhaps the thief would be cautious about going there, for that very reason. He might think the ring would be recognized.”

“He would go to a large place, thinking that so valuable a ring would be more readily purchased there.”

“He might go to Ball & Black's.”

“That is true.”

“It would be well to give notice there also.”

“I will go up there at once. I only wish I could meet Mr. Felix Montgomery; I don't think he would find it so easy to outreach me a second time.”

“Take some dinner first, Paul.”

“Then I must hurry it down, mother; I don't want to run the risk of getting too late to Ball & Black's. I can't help thinking what a splendid thing it would be if we had the two hundred and fifty dollars. I would buy out Barry's stand, and I would get a sewing-machine for you, and we could live much more comfortably. It makes me mad to think I let that villain take me in so! He must think me jolly green.”

“Anybody might have been deceived, Paul. You mustn't blame yourself too much for that.”

Leaving Paul on his way to Ball & Black's, we return to Mr. Felix Montgomery, as we shall continue to call him, though he had no right to the name. After stupefying Paul, as already described, he made his way downstairs, and, leaving his key at the desk, went out.

“I hope my young friend will enjoy himself upstairs,” he chuckled to himself. “He's quite welcome to the use of the room till to-morrow morning. It's paid for in advance, and I don't think I shall find it convenient to stop there.”

He took the ring from his vest pocket and glanced at it furtively.

“It's a beauty,” he murmured, complacently. “I never saw a handsomer ring of the size. What was it the boy said he was offered for it? Two hundred and fifty dollars! That'll give me a lift, and it doesn't come any too soon. My money is pretty low.”

He walked across the City Hall Park, and at Barclay street entered a University place car.

“Evenin' paper, mister?” said a ragged newsboy, whose garments were constructed on the most approved system of ventilation.

“What have you got?”

“Evenin' Post, Mail, Express!”

“Give me an Express. Here's ten cents.”

“I haven't got but three cents change, mister.”

“Never mind the change,” said Mr. Montgomery, in a fit of temporary generosity, occasioned by his good luck.

“Thank you, sir,” said the newsboy, regarding Mr. Montgomery as a philanthropist worthy of his veneration.

Felix Montgomery leaned back in his seat, and, with a benevolent smile, ran his eyes over the columns of the Express. Among the paragraphs which attracted his attention was one relating to a comrade, of similar profession, who had just been arrested in Albany while in the act of relieving a gentleman of his pocketbook.

“Jerry always was a bungler,” said Mr. Montgomery, complacently, to himself. “He can't hold a candle to me. I flatter myself that I know how to manage a little affair, like this, for instance, as well as the next man. It'll take a sharp detective to lay hold of me.”

It might have been thought that the manner in which he had gained possession of the ring would have troubled Mr. Montgomery, but it was many years since he had led an honest life. He had made a living by overreaching others, and his conscience had become so blunted as to occasion him little trouble. He appeared to think that the world owed him a living, and that he was quite justified in collecting the debt in any way he could.

About twenty minutes brought the car to Amity street and Mr. Montgomery signaled the conductor, and, the car being stopped, he got out.

He walked a few rods in a westerly direction, and paused before a three-story brick house, which appeared to have seen better days.

It was now used as a boarding, or rather lodging-house. The guests were not of a very high character, the landlady not being particular as long as her rent was paid regularly. Mr. Montgomery ascended the steps in a jaunty way, and, opening the door with a passkey, ascended the front staircase. He paused before a room on the third floor, and knocked in a peculiar manner.

The door was opened by a tall woman, in rather neglected attire.

“So you're back,” she said.