Adventures of a Telegraph Boy or 'Number 91'

The thief looked startled, and turning into Thirty Seventh Street ran towards Fifth Avenue.

Paul followed in close pursuit.

“Drop that wallet, or it will be worse for you!” exclaimed the undaunted boy.

Had the night been dark, the thief would have taken the chances, and retained his booty. But he was sure to attract attention, and might any minute run into the arms of a policeman. The risk was too great.

“There, curse you!” he muttered, throwing down the wallet. “Now stop following me!”

Paul picked up the pocketbook, and ceased the pursuit. He had accomplished all he intended, and was willing to let the thief go free, now that he had restored his plunder.

He retraced his steps to Sixth Avenue, where he found the stranger waiting for him.

“Here is your pocketbook,” he said. “You have had a narrow escape.”

“By Jove! I should think I had,” answered the young man. “How much money do you think there is in that wallet?”

“Is it a large sum?” asked Paul, his curiosity aroused.

“Fifteen hundred dollars – perhaps a little more. You’re a brave boy. But for you I should have lost it.”

“I am very glad to have been of such service,” said Paul. “If the thief only knew what a purse he had lost he would feel like murdering me.”

“What made you suspect him? You must have sharp eyes.”

“I believe I have,” answered Paul, “but I was watching him closely as I walked behind. I knew him to be a pickpocket.”

“How was that?” asked the young man.

“I once saw him in the court room at the Tombs, being tried for theft. I have not seen him since, but I recognized him at once. I saw him join you, and I suspected his motive at once.”

“You saw my condition?”

“Yes, I saw that you were not yourself.”

“I had been making a fool of myself by drinking too much. I hope you don’t drink?”

“No, sir, never.”

“You are wise. Will you walk with me to my hotel?”

“Yes, sir, where are you staying?”

“At the Albemarle. Do you know where it is?”

“O, yes,” answered Paul, smiling. He felt that he would hardly have been fit for a telegraph boy if he had not known the location of a hotel so well known.

“I have been spending the evening with a few friends who live in an apartment house near the park. The punch was remarkably good, and I drank more than was good for me. I suppose you wonder why I didn’t ride home, instead of walking?”

“It would have been safer, at any rate.”

“I had a headache and thought I might walk it off. At any rate, I should feel better for being in the open air. But I found some difficulty in steering straight, as I dare say you noticed.”

“Yes, sir, I observed it.”

“Then this fellow came along. He offered to accompany me home, and I never suspected that he was a thief. I am afraid you will think me rather green.”

“O, no; the man’s appearance might easily deceive you.”

“It did not deceive you.”

“No, for I had seen him before. But will you pardon me for saying that you were imprudent in carrying around so large a sum of money at this late hour?”

“You are quite right. I was a fool, and I am willing to admit it.”

It was not long before Paul and his new friend reached the hotel, which is in the block above the Fifth Avenue.

“Come upstairs with me,” said the young man.

“If you wish it,” answered Paul.

“I do; I have some business with you, but I won’t keep you long.”

Paul followed his new acquaintance into a handsomely furnished chamber on the third floor. He involuntarily thought of the poor tenement house room in which he and old Jerry made their home, and he wondered whether it would ever be his fortune to be as well lodged as the traveler from Missouri.

“Why not?” asked Paul, hopefully.

“Sit down,” said the stranger, pointing to a chair. “I won’t keep you long.”

CHAPTER XXIV

A ROOM AT THE ALBEMARLE HOTEL

The stranger was tall and well formed. He had certainly showed moral weakness in yielding to the fascinations of drink, but he looked like a smart man of business.

“Wait a minute,” he said, “and I will talk to you.”

He went to a stationary washtub, and bathed his head freely.

“There,” he said, after he had rubbed his face vigorously with a towel. “I feel fifty per cent better. There is nothing like cold water after all.”

“Inside as well as outside,” added Paul, with a smile.

“That’s where you are right, my boy. Evidently your head is level. You say you are a telegraph boy?”

“Yes sir.”

“How do you like it?”