Bernard Brooks' Adventures: The Experience of a Plucky Boy

Bernard followed the directions of his friend, and Mr. Sturgis went down to breakfast. Professor Puffer was already in the coffee room.

“Where is my ward?” he asked abruptly.

“I can’t tell you, sir,” returned Nelson Sturgis coolly.

“Didn’t he pass the night with you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you should know where he is.”

“I have already told you that I don’t know.”

“Do you think he has left the hotel?”

“I think it quite probable.”

“Did he tell you where he was going?”

“No.”

“I believe you are deceiving me,” said Professor Puffer angrily.

“And I am sure that you are impertinent. I may feel inclined to pull your nose.”

Nelson Sturgis was a tall, athletic man, and Professor Puffer was persuaded that he could carry out his threat if he was so minded. Accordingly he thought it best to desist.

After breakfast Mr. Sturgis summoned a hotel attendant.

“Here is half a crown,” he said. “Go to the chamber of my young friend, Bernard Brooks, and bring his satchel to my room.”

“All right, sir.”

This was done without the observation of Puffer, or he would have prevented the removal of Bernard’s luggage.

Mr. Sturgis called a hackney coach, had his luggage put on, including Bernard’s satchel, and drove to the railway station.

“Well, Bernard, I have brought your satchel,” he said.

“Thank you, sir. I was wondering what I should do without it.”

“I had no idea of leaving it with the professor. Now I will secure tickets to London.”

“What will be the price?”

“Never mind. I will undertake to get you to London free of expense to yourself. Afterwards we will consult about your plans.”

Just as the train was starting, Professor Puffer reached the station, and from the platform espied his ward in the act of leaving him.

“Stop!” he called out, shaking his fist at the receding train.

“Good-by, Professor Puffer!” said Bernard with a smile and a wave of the hand.

Puffer in his anger, ran a few steps, talking violently.

“My ward is running away,” he said to a policeman. “Can’t you stop the train?”

“No; I can’t.”

“But I want to get him back.”

“Then you’ll have to go before a magistrate.”

“Where is that train going?”

“To London.”

“Then I’ll go, too. When is the next train?”

“At twelve o’clock, sir.”

Professor Puffer returned to the hotel at once, packed his trunk, and enrolled himself as a passenger on the noon train.

“If that fellow escapes me,” he said with an ugly look, “he’ll have to be pretty smart. I won’t have it said that a boy of his age has got the better of me.” Mr. Sturgis bought first class tickets, and Bernard found himself in a handsomely upholstered compartment only large enough to hold eight passengers.

The doors were locked after they started, which struck Bernard as peculiar.

“I like our American cars better,” he said.

“So do I, but they are not so exclusive. The English like to be exclusive.”

It was an express train, and deposited them in London in a few hours.

“Now, Bernard,” said Mr. Sturgis, “I think it will be well for us to go to different hotels. I shall go to the Charing Cross, but this is a prominent hotel, and should you go there you could easily be traced.”

“Where shall I go?”

“There is a comfortable family hotel in Arundel Street, Strand. The charges, including room and board, are only about six shillings per day, or a dollar and a half in American money. At the Charing Cross they are higher.”

“Then I will go to Arundel Street.”

“Very well. When you reach London I will see you started for your hotel.”

“Shan’t I see you again, sir?”

“Yes, I will call around in the evening. By the way, I have thought of a way to put Professor Puffer off the track.”

“How is that, sir?”