Part 32 (2/2)

”Since when?”

”Since I came to New York,” answered Jerry.

”You are about as bad off as I was some forty years ago,” said the man, with a broad smile. ”At that time I found myself in this city, with just twenty-five cents in my pocket. But I struck employment, and rose from one place to another until now I am my own master, with a bookbinding-shop where I employ nearly fifty hands.”

As he spoke he gazed at Jerry curiously.

”You were going to ask me for a job, weren't you?” he went on, and Jerry nodded. ”What can you do?”

”I'm not used to any such work, sir. But you'll find me willing and strong--and honest. I would like to earn a little before I went back to my home.”

”Well, those three qualities you mention are sure to win, my boy. Perhaps I can find an opening for you. Here comes a friend I have been waiting for. I am going out of town with him. Call at my shop to-morrow morning, if you don't strike anything in the meantime.”

And, handing out his card, Mr. Islen walked rapidly away.

Fifteen minutes later found Jerry on the way to Alexander Sloc.u.m's office.

In an inner pocket he carried the papers his father had unearthed from the trunk in the garret at home.

CHAPTER XXVI.

ALEXANDER SLOc.u.m IS ASTONISHED.

Jerry felt that his mission to the real estate man was a delicate one.

What would he have to say when he learned who the youth was and what he had come for?

The boy resolved to be on guard. He might be from the country and green, but no one should catch him napping, as had Mr. Wakefield Smith.

The distance to the address furnished by Nellie Ardell was nearly a dozen blocks, but Jerry was used to walking and made the journey on foot.

The young oarsman found Alexander Sloc.u.m's set of offices located on the top floor of an old-fas.h.i.+oned four-story office building. There was an elevator, however, and this Jerry used and soon found himself in front of a ground-gla.s.s door, which bore the sign:

Alexander Sloc.u.m, Real Estate and Fire Insurance.

Loans Negotiated.

There was a hum of voices from within, but the hum ceased as Jerry knocked.

”Come in,” was the short invitation, and the boy entered, to find a large apartment, comfortably furnished with desks, stuffed chairs and other things which went to show that the man he had come to interview was doing well.

Near an open window sat two gentlemen dressed in black. One was much older than the other, and Jerry rightfully guessed that he was an office a.s.sistant.

The other man was well preserved, with a waxed mustache and piercing black eyes. He held a silk hat in his hand, as if he had been on the point of leaving.

”Well, young man, what can I do for you?” questioned the office a.s.sistant, as he regarded Jerry indifferently.

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