CHAPTER XIII.
ROBBED IN HIS SLEEP.
Arrived at his destination Mr. Brown opened a door, and bade Samenter. It was rather dark, and it was not until his host lighted acandle, that Sam could obtain an idea of the appearance of the room.The ceiling was low, and the furniture scanty. A couple of chairs, asmall table, of which the paint was worn off in spots, and a bed inthe corner, were the complete outfit of Mr. Brown's home. He set thecandle on the table, and remarked apologetically: "I don't live inmuch style, as you see. The fact is, I am at present in straitenedcircumstances. When my uncle dies I shall inherit a fortune. Then,when you come to see me, I will entertain you handsomely."
"Is your uncle rich?" asked Sam.
"I should say he was. He's a millionnaire."
"Why don't he do something for you now?"
Mr. Clarence Brown shrugged his shoulders.
"He's a very peculiar man--wants to keep every cent as long as helives. When he's dead it's got to go to his heirs. That's why he livesin a palatial mansion on Madison Avenue, while I, his nephew, occupy ashabby apartment like this."
Sam looked about him, and mentally admitted the justice of the term.It was a shabby apartment, without question. Still, he was to lodgethere gratis, and it was not for him to complain.
"By the way," said Mr. Brown, casually, after exploring his pocketsapparently without success, "you haven't got a quarter, have you?"
"Yes, I guess so."
"All right; I'll borrow it till to-morrow, if you don't mind."
"Certainly," said Sam, handing over the sum desired.
"I'll go out and get some whiskey. My system requires it. You won'tmind being left alone for five minutes."
"Oh, no."
"Very good. I won't stay long."
Mr. Brown went out, and our hero sat down on the bed to wait for him.
"So this is my first night in the city," he thought. "I expected theyhad better houses. This room isn't half so nice as I had at thedeacon's. But then I haven't got to hoe potatoes. I guess I'll like itwhen I get used to it. There isn't anybody to order me round here."
Presently Mr. Brown came back. He had a bottle partially full ofwhiskey with him.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said. "Were you lonely?"
"Oh, no."
"I've got a couple of glasses here somewhere. Oh, here they are. Nowwe'll see how it tastes."
"Not much for me," said Sam. "I don't think I'll like it."
"It'll be good for your stomach. However, I won't give you much."
He poured out a little in one tumbler for Sam and a considerablylarger amount for himself.
"Your health," he said, nodding.
"Thank you," said Sam,
Sam tasted the whiskey, but the taste did not please him. He set downthe glass, but his host drained his at a draught.
"Don't you like it?" asked Brown.
"Not very much."
"Don't you care to drink it?"
"I guess not."
"It's a pity it should be wasted."
To prevent this, Mr. Brown emptied Sam's glass also.
"Now, if you are not sleepy, we might have a game of cards," suggestedBrown.
"I think I'd rather go to bed," said Sam, yawning.
"All right! Go to bed any time. I dare say you are tired. Do you go tosleep easily?"
"In a jiffy."
"Then you won't mind my absence. I've got to make a call on a sickfriend, but I shan't be out late. Just make yourself at home, go tosleep, and you'll see me in the morning."
"Thank you, sir."
"Don't bolt the door, as I don't want to wake you up when I come in."
"All right."
Again Mr. Brown went out, and Sam undressed and got into bed. It wasnot very comfortable, and the solitary sheet looked as if it had notbeen changed for three months or more. However, Sam was notfastidious, and he was sleepy. So he closed his eyes, and was soon inthe land of dreams.
It was about two hours afterward that Clarence Brown entered the room.He walked on tiptoe to the bed, and looked at Sam.
"He's fast asleep," he said to himself. "Did he undress? Oh, yes, hereare his clothes. I'll take the liberty of examining his pockets, tosee whether my trouble is likely to be rewarded."
Brown explored one pocket after the other. He found no pocket-book,for Sam did not possess any. In fact he had never felt the need of oneuntil he appropriated the deacon's money. The balance of this wastucked away in his vest-pocket.
"Six dollars and ten cents," said Brown, after counting it. "It isn'tmuch of a haul, that's a fact. I thought he had twice as much, at theleast. Still," he added philosophically, "it's better than nothing. Ishall find a use for it without doubt."
He tucked the money away in his own pocket, and sat on the edge of thebedstead in meditation.
"I may as well go to bed," he reflected. "He won't find out his lossin the night, and in the morning I can be off before he is up. Even ifI oversleep myself, I can brazen it out. He's only a green countryboy. Probably he won't suspect me, and if he does he can provenothing."
He did not undress, but lay down on the bed dressed as he was. He,too, was soon asleep, and Sam, unconscious of his loss, slept on. Sothe money was doubly stolen, and the first thief suffered at the handsof a more experienced thief.
The sun had been up nearly three hours the next morning beforeClarence Brown awoke. As he opened his eyes, his glance fell on Samstill asleep, and the events of the evening previous came to hismind.
"I must be up, and out of this," he thought, "before the younggreenhorn wakes up."
Being already dressed, with the exception of his coat, he had littleto do beyond rising. He crept out of the room on tiptoe, and, makinghis way to a restaurant at a safe distance, sat down and ordered agood breakfast at Sam's expense.
Meanwhile Sam slept on for half an hour more.
Finally he opened his eyes, and, oblivious of his changedcircumstances, was surprised that he had not been called earlier. Buta single glance about the shabby room recalled to his memory that hewas now beyond the deacon's jurisdiction.
"I am in New York," he reflected, with a thrill of joy. "But where isMr. Brown?"
He looked in vain for his companion, but no suspicion was excited inhis mind.
"He didn't want to wake me up," he thought. "I suppose he has gone tohis business."
He stretched himself, and lay a little longer. It was a pleasantthought that there was no stern taskmaster to force him up. He mightlie as long as he wanted to, till noon, if he chose. Perhaps he mighthave chosen, but the claims of a healthy appetite asserted themselves,and Sam sprang out of bed.
"I'll have a good breakfast," he said to himself, "and then I mustlook around and see if I can't find something to do; my money willsoon be out."
It was natural that he should have felt for his money, at that moment,but he did not. No suspicion of Mr. Brown's integrity had entered hismind. You see Sam was very unsophisticated at that time, and, thoughhe had himself committed a theft, he did not suspect the honesty ofothers.
"I suppose I shall have to go without thanking Mr. Brown, as he don'tseem to be here," he reflected. "Perhaps I shall see him somewhereabout the streets. I've saved a dollar anyway, or at leastseventy-five cents," he added, thinking of the quarter he had lent hishospitable entertainer the evening before. "Perhaps he'll let me sleephere again to-night. It'll be a help to me, as long as I haven't gotanything to do yet."
Still Sam did not feel for his money, and was happily unconscious ofhis loss.
He opened his door, and found his way downstairs into the streetwithout difficulty. The halls and staircases looked even more dingyand shabby in the daytime than they had done in the evening. "It isn'ta very nice place to live," thought Sam. "However, I suppose Mr. Brownwill be rich when his uncle dies. I wish he was rich now; he mightgive me a place."
"Shine yer boots?" asked a small knight of the brush.
"No," said Sam, who had grown economica
l; "they don't need it."
He walked on for five minutes or more. Presently he came to aneating-house. He knew it by the printed bills of fare which wereplacarded outside.
"Now, I'll have some breakfast," he thought, with satisfaction, and heentered confidently.