Part 43 (1/2)

”Now for it!” exclaimed Fairfax, exultingly. ”Now, let me see how much I have got.”

He drew the pocketbook from his pocket, and opened it. His heart gave a quick thump, and he turned ashy pale, as his glance rested upon the worthless roll of brown paper with which it had been stuffed.

”Curse the boy!” he cried, in fierce and bitter disappointment. ”He has fooled me, after all! Why didn't I stop long enough to open the pocketbook before I came away? Blind, stupid fool that I was! I am as badly off as before--nay, worse, for I have exposed myself to suspicion, and haven't got a penny to show for it.”

I will not dwell upon his bitter self-reproaches, and, above all, the intense mortification he felt at having been so completely fooled by a boy, whom he had despised as verdant and inexperienced in the ways of the, world--to think that success had been in his grasp, and he had missed it, after all, was certainly disagreeable enough. It occurred to him that he might go back to the Adams House even now, and repair his blunder. It was not likely that Andy was awake yet. He was very weary, and boys of his age were likely, unless disturbed, to sleep through the night. He might retrieve his error, and no one would be the wiser.

”I'll do it,” he said, at length.

He went downstairs, and left the hotel without the knowledge of the clerk. Jumping into the horse-cars, he returned to Boston, and entered the Adams House about half-past twelve o'clock. He claimed his key at the desk, and went upstairs to his room. He had scarcely lit the gas, however, when a knock was heard at the door. Opening it unsuspiciously, he turned pale, as he recognized the clerk, in company with an officer of the law.

”What's wanted?” he faltered.

”You are wanted,” was the brief reply.

”What for?” he gasped.

”You are charged with entering the adjoining room, and stealing a pocketbook from the boy who sleeps there.”

”It's a lie!” he said, but his tone was nervous.

”You must submit to a search,” said the officer.

”Do you mean to insult me?” demanded Fairfax, a.s.suming an air of outraged virtue.

”Not at all. I am only giving you a chance to clear yourself from suspicion.”

”I am a respectable merchant from Portland. I was never so insulted in my life,” said Fairfax.

”If the charge proves groundless, I will make you an ample apology,”

said the officer.

Fairfax was compelled to submit to the search. He cursed his stupidity in not throwing away the worthless pocketbook, but this he had neglected to do, and, of course, it was very significant evidence against him. Not only was this found, but the variety of keys already referred to.

”You carry a great many keys,” said the officer.

”It isn't a crime to carry keys, is it?” demanded Fairfax, sullenly.

”Not if no improper use is made of them. I suspect that one of them will open the door into the next chamber.”

The keys were tried, and one did open the door. As the light flashed into the room, Andy got up.

”Come here, young man,” said the officer. ”Can you identify that pocketbook?”

”I can,” said Andy.

”Is it yours?”