Part 31 (1/2)

”Supposing we take a walk out together this evening?” Wakefield Smith suggested. ”No doubt you would like to see the sights.”

”I'll go out for an hour or so,” answered the young oarsman, and they started while it was yet light.

Mr. Wakefield Smith knew the metropolis from end to end, and as the pair covered block after block, he pointed out various buildings. He smoked constantly, and several times invited Jerry to have a cigar, but the youth declined.

”Supposing we have a drink, then?” he urged.

Again Jerry declined, which made the man frown. He insisted Jerry should at least have some soda water with him, and at last the boy accepted, and they entered rather a modest looking drug store on a side street.

”Hullo! what's that crowd on the street?” exclaimed Mr. Wakefield Smith, as the gla.s.ses were set out, and as Jerry looked out of the doorway he fancied the man shoved up close to where his gla.s.s was standing and made a movement as if to throw something into it.

Jerry saw nothing unusual in the street, and the man's manner made him suspicious, so that he hesitated about drinking the soda. He swallowed a small portion of it and threw the remainder in a corner.

”What's the matter, don't you like it?” demanded Wakefield Smith, almost roughly.

”No, it's bitter.”

”Humph!” He growled something under his breath. ”I'll not treat you again,” he went on, as they came out on the street.

What Jerry had taken of the soda had made his head ache, and this caused the young oarsman to grow more suspicious than ever. He had read in a daily paper about folks being drugged by friendly strangers, and resolved to be on guard.

The pair pa.s.sed on the distance of a block, and then Jerry announced his intention of returning home to the boarding-house.

”Oh, don't go yet,” urged Mr. Wakefield Smith. ”Come on across the way.

There are some beautiful pictures in an art store window I want to show you. One of the pictures is worth ten thousand dollars.”

He caught our hero by the arm and hurried him over the way and into the crowd. Jerry was jostled to the right and left, and it was fully a minute before he squeezed himself out to a clear spot. Then he looked around for Mr. Wakefield Smith, but the man was gone.

Like a flash Jerry felt something had gone wrong. He put his hand in his pocket. His money was missing!

CHAPTER XXV.

A FRUITLESS SEARCH.

”Less than half a day in New York and robbed! Oh, what a greeny I have been!”

Thus Jerry groaned to himself as he searched first one pocket and then another. It was all to no purpose, the money was gone and he was left absolutely penniless.

The young oarsman was certain that Mr. Wakefield Smith had robbed him. He had been wary of the man from the start, and now blamed himself greatly for having given the rascal the chance to take the pocket-book.

Without loss of time Jerry darted into the crowd again, looking in every direction for the thief. He was so eager, he ran plump into an old gentleman, knocking his silk hat to the pavement.

”Hi! hi! stop, you young rascal!” puffed the man, as Jerry stooped and restored the tile to him. ”What do you mean by running into me in this fas.h.i.+on?”

”Excuse me, but I have been robbed! I want to catch the thief.”

”Robbed?”

”Yes, sir.”