“Say, boss, can’t you help a poor fellow out?”
He turned quickly, and to his great astonishment, beheld Harry Adler standing before him. He had not seen the man since he left Cleverly in company with Arthur Black. The appearance of Adler indicated that he had been a victim either of great misfortune, or of the persistent laziness which seemed to be part of his character. He was very thinly clad; in fact his coat seemed to be a mass of rags, and there were holes in the rough shoes that he wore on his feet. A hat with a torn brim covered his bushy hair, and he was entirely innocent of collar or necktie. A heavy beard suggested continuous neglect of the barber.
“Harry Adler!” exclaimed Herbert. “You are the last man in the world I expected to meet.”
“Yes, I guess that’s so,” said Adler, beginning to sniffle; “but you see, Herbert, I’ve been playing in very hard luck. I came to the city to get work, and after I had been at it for about a week I was taken sick and sent to the hospital. When I came out of that institution I was so weak that I was not able to hunt for employment, and I finally got in such a condition that I had to beg for a bit to eat.”
Herbert looked at the fellow in a skeptical manner. Then he gave a significant sniff of his nose.
“I guess you’ve been drinking,” he cried. “Probably that has prevented you from being a successful business man in New York.”
Adler pretended not to notice this bit of irony and continued:
“Herbert, you’ve got a chance to make a man out of me. I know we haven’t been very good friends; but if you will help to straighten me out you will never have cause to regret it.”
“Where is Arthur Black?” asked Herbert, disregarding the other’s appeal.
“He’s up at my boarding house,” replied Adler, with a whimper.