“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 glasses were set out, and as Jerry looked out of the doorway he fancied the man shoved up close to where his glass 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 passed 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.”