CHAPTER XVIII.
TOM FLANNERY IS HUNGRY.
It was past midnight when Herbert Randolph and Bob Hunter reached their room. The old fence had meanwhile been taken to the station house by an officer. Both boys were sleepy and well nigh exhausted, so they immediately sought rest.
Bob, however, was up at his usual hour in the morning, and off to look after his paper trade. Business proved good with him on this occasion—unusually good—so that his profits amounted to quite a nice little sum. He therefore planned to give Herbert a good warm breakfast, something better than it had been their custom to eat.
Presently Tom Flannery appeared.
“You here, Bob?” said the latter, with surprise. “I thought you was done for, sure.”
“What made you think that, Tom?”
“Why, because you didn’t show up.”
“You didn’t wait for me, did you?”
“Didn’t I? Well, I should think I did, till near twelve o’clock, too, when I was so near froze I couldn’t stay no longer; and Bob, I thought it was all up with you.”
“Why, Tom, you hadn’t oughter staid. I told you to go home after you lit the fire.”
“I know you did, Bob, but I didn’t feel like goin’ home and leavin’ you alone in that den. You see I thought you might need me.”
“Tom, you’ve got more sand than I thought you had. I wish I coulder fixed it so you coulder been on the inside too.”
“I wish you could, Bob. Was it excitin’?”
“Excitin’! Well, wasn’t it, though! I never saw anything like it. But I say, Tom, that was a great go. You done it splendid.”
“What’s that, Bob?”
“Why, the fire act. I don’t believe nobody could beat that.”
Tom enjoyed this praise hugely.
“I wouldn’t like to a’ been in your place, Bob,” said he, “when you was in that dark room, nor when old Gunwagner and that other feller was huntin’ for you.”
“No, I thought you wouldn’t, Tom, and I didn’t want to be there neither.”
“’Twas a big detective job, wasn’t it, Bob?”
“Well, ’twas a pretty fair one, I guess.”
“And you got it all up yourself,” continued Tom, admiringly. “I wish I could do things the way you do, Bob.”
“Well, you see, Tom, you hain’t had so much experience as what I have, but you’ll come out all right, and make a big detective, I know you will.”
Bob stopped talking to sell a paper, and after making change and pocketing his profit, he continued:
“Now, Tom, I tell you what ’tis: you and me and Herbert will eat breakfast together, when he comes down.”
“When will he be down?” asked Tom, his hand dropping instinctively upon his empty stomach.
Tom Flannery was known among his crowd of street lads as the hungry boy. He was always ready to eat, and never seemed to get enough food to satisfy the cravings of his appetite. This invitation, therefore, was very welcome to him.
“It’s ’bout time for him now,” replied Bob, in answer to Tom’s question.
“I wish he would come,” said Tom, looking hungrier than usual.
“He is probably making up sleep,” said the young detective.
“How much sleep has he got to make up, Bob?” asked Tom, seriously.
“I don’t know exactly, but I guess pretty near a whole night.”
“A whole night!” exclaimed Tom, dubiously. “He ain’t goin’ to make it all up this morning, is he, Bob?”
Tom’s hand rested suggestively upon his stomach again.
“Shucks! Tom Flannery, if you ain’t a idiot, I never saw one! To think Herbert Randolph would sleep all day! Didn’t I tell you he would be right down?”
“So you did, Bob. I forgot that; but you see I wanted to be sure, cause I haven’t had nothin’ to eat yet today.”
Bob looked at his companion with an air of disdain, and made no reply.
Tom, however, was not over sensitive, so he kept on talking about Bob’s adventure at the fence. In the course of half an hour he got the whole story from the young detective. Bob not only told him his own adventures, but gave him all of Herbert’s experience, which he had himself learned from our hero.
It was now about a quarter to nine. Tom looked suggestively at the big hands on the City Hall clock, but said nothing about young Randolph’s non-appearance.
“I don’t see what keeps him,” said Bob, knowing full well what Tom was thinking about.
“Nor I don’t either, Bob. I guess he won’t be down very early.”
“Well, there wasn’t nothin’ to bring him down early.”
“But you expected him, didn’t you, Bob?”
“Of course I did, Tom Flannery. Didn’t I ask you to eat breakfast with me and him?”
“Yes, you did, Bob, and that was what I was thinking about.”
“Well, what did you think about it?”
“I was wonderin’ if you meant this mornin’, or some other mornin’.”
Tom had hardly finished this remark, when Herbert Randolph approached from the Broadway entrance and spoke to Bob.
“This is Tom Flannery, what helped me do the detective act,” said the latter, by way of introduction. “You know I told you about him.”
“Oh, yes, I remember, and I am glad to meet you, Tom Flannery,” replied young Randolph, extending his hand to Tom.
“So am I glad to see you,” said young Flannery; “me and Bob here have been waitin’ for you more’n two hours.”
“Oh, Tom Flannery!” exclaimed Bob. “What are you talkin’ that way for? ’Tain’t a quarter so much that we’ve been waitin’, and you know it.”
“Seems like ’twas a half a day to me, any way,” protested Tom, with his hand again moving towards the seat of his digestion.
“The trouble is with Tom Flannery that he is always starvin’. I never see such a hungry boy,” explained the young detective.
“I can’t help it,” answered Tom; “I like to eat.”
Bob explained to Herbert that they had been waiting for him to join them for breakfast.
“I am sorry,” said young Randolph, “but I ate my breakfast on the way down.”
Tom Flannery was disheartened.
“Never mind, Tom,” said Bob; “we will have the breakfast some other mornin’—you and me and Vermont.”
When it was time for Mr. Goldwin to get down to business, our hero and the young detective started for the banking house.
A surprise awaited Felix Mortimer.