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- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Andy Grant's Pluck by Jr. Horatio Alger (books to read to get smarter txt) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
"For about twenty-four hours," answered Andy.
"And then you go on further?"
"Yes, sir."
"How far?"
"I cannot tell you definitely," answered Andy, who thought it wise to be on his guard.
"Could you oblige me with small bills for a ten? I am owing a dollar to the porter."
Andy took out a large-sized wallet from an inner pocket and opened it. It contained about fifty dollars in bills of different denominations.
"I am afraid I cannot accommodate you," he said, "unless two five-dollar bills will answer your purpose."
"I am afraid it won't help me."
"I am sorry," said Andy, politely.
He did not observe the covetous glance of the stranger as he noted the large wallet and its contents. It occurred to him afterward that his companion had not produced the bill he wished changed.
"Oh, well," said the stranger, carelessly, "it doesn't matter. I can get the bill changed at the depot. Are you traveling on business?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir."
"So am I. I represent the firm of Arnold & Constable, in New York. Doubtless you have heard of them."
"Oh, yes. They are well known."
"I have been in their employ for five years. Before that I worked for Claflin."
"Indeed!"
"You do not mention the name of your firm."
"No, I am traveling on private business for the head of the firm."
"Ah, yes. I don't wish to be inquisitive. You do right to keep the business to yourself."
"You see, it is not my business."
"Just so! You are young for a business agent."
"That is true, but I am growing older every day."
"Exactly so! Good joke!"
Andy's companion laughed quite heartily, rather to the surprise of his young acquaintance.
"I am very glad to have met you. You see, I am very social, and can't stand being alone. By the way, where do you stop in Chicago?"
"At the Sherman House."
"Good hotel! I have stopped there often. Still, there is nothing as homelike as a private house. I have a friend living in the city who keeps a first-class boarding house and only charges transient guests a dollar and a quarter a day. I wish you could be induced to go there with me. At the hotel you will have to pay three or four dollars."
Now, Andy was naturally economical, and thought it would be praiseworthy to save money for Mr. Crawford. He inquired the location of the boarding house, and imprudently decided to act on his companion's proposal.
CHAPTER XXXI. — THE TRAP.
Andy left the depot with his new acquaintance, who gave his name as Percival Robinson, and, following his lead, boarded a horse car, which took them both a distance of three miles to the southern part of the city. As they went on, dwellings became scattering.
"Your friend's house seems quite out of the way," said Andy.
"Yes; but Chicago is a city of distances. It really doesn't make much difference where you stop. Street cars will carry you anywhere."
"Still it would be pleasanter to be centrally located."
"But by going some way out you get cheaper accommodations."
"That is true," thought Andy; "and I have time enough."
At length Robinson signaled to the conductor to stop.
Andy followed him out of the car. They seemed to be in the very outskirts of the city.
Robinson led the way to a rather shabby brick house standing by itself. It was three stories in height.
"This is where my friend lives," he said, walking up the front steps and ringing the front-door bell.
Two minutes later the door was opened by a red-haired man in his shirt sleeves.
"Hello, Tom!" he exclaimed.
"I thought his name was Percival," Andy said to himself.
"My young friend and I will stay overnight with you," said Robinson.
"All right. Come in."
A door on the left was opened, and Andy saw a sanded floor, and on one side of the room a bar.
"Go in there a minute," said Robinson, "while I speak to my friend."
Andy went in, and picked up a copy of the Clipper from the table—the only paper in the room.
In five minutes the two returned.
"I'll take your gripsack," said the man in shirt sleeves. "I will show you to your room."
They went up two flights of stairs to a room on the third floor. It was a small apartment about ten feet square, with a double bed in one corner.
"I guess you'll both be comfortable here," said the landlord.
"I think I would rather have a room to myself," said Andy, by no means satisfied.
"Sorry we can't accommodate you, but the house is full."
It didn't look so, but then the lodgers might be out.
Andy thought for a moment he would go downstairs, and take a car back to the central part of the city, but he was afraid his action would seem strange, and he made no objection.
"I guess we'll get along together," said Robinson, in an easy tone.
Andy didn't think so, but he found it awkward to make objections.
"I will take a wash," he said, seeing that the pitcher on the washstand contained water.
"All right!" returned Robinson. "Just make yourself at home. I'll go downstairs. You'll find me there."
Left alone, Andy reproached himself for his too ready yielding to the plans of his companion. He wondered why he had done so.
"Mr. Crawford didn't ask me to be economical," he reflected. "He is willing I should pay ordinary prices at a hotel. I think I have been very
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