“What sort of errands did you have to do up there? I should think that would be pretty far out of your beat,” continued Bruce, with an idle curiosity to learn something of his new friend.
“Oh! I went up dere lots o’ times on most partick’ler business,” responded Skinny. “Dere was a bloke useter send me ter carry letters to a big house dat had evergreens in front of it and a porch over de door. Deres was an’ old gent lived dere, but now he’s gone ter Yurrup or Africky or some place or nudder.”
And now it was Bruce’s turn to be interested. “Was there a side door to the house, with vines hanging over it?” he asked.
“Cert,” replied Skinny, “an’ an old gent dat giv me a quarter two or tree times. An’ twict he sent me in de kitchen an’ de lady wot cooked dere gimme a steak an’ pertaters an’ coffee. Dey never watched me needer, an’ I mighter swiped some spoons on’y dey used me so white.”
Bruce’s head, which had been lifted slightly from the pillow during this conversation, now fell back from sheer weariness, and for a few moments the boy remained absolutely quiet, wondering if it could be possible that he had found in this street Arab someone who could enlighten him in regard to the mystery which had puzzled him so much and awakened such a deep interest in the heart of Laura Van Kuren.
“Who was the man who used to send you up there on errands?” inquired Bruce, after a brief silence.
“I never knowed his name. He was a bloke dat useter hang out at a place in Eldridge street, and he seen me around dere an’ gimme a job now an’ den. We useter call him Scar-Faced Charley.”
“Well, what sort of a looking man was he?” persisted Bruce, trying not to betray the deep interest that he felt.
“He was a tall feller, an’ had a black beard an’ a scar acrost his face,” said Skinny.
Bruce asked no more questions, and the young newsboy soon after fell into a doze, leaving the other free to pursue his thought. It seemed to him now that he had at last found a clue to the identity of the man who had known his father, and whom he never doubted for a moment was the same one who had sent Skinny on errands to Mr. Dexter’s house. The more he thought of it the more excited he became, and in his weak condition the excitement soon made itself manifest in his face, so that Miss Ingraham, pausing for a moment beside his cot, noticed the condition of her patient, felt of his pulse, and then called the doctor to see if any change for the worse had taken place. The boy seemed to be on the verge of a fever, so the doctor gave him a quieting draught and bade him compose his mind, if possible, and go to sleep.