Ben had sold half his papers when the arrival of the train from Philadelphia gave him an opportunity to return to his legitimate calling.
"Smash your baggage, sir?" asked Ben of a dark-complexioned man of thirty-five, who carried a moderate-sized valise.
"Yes," said the other.
"Where shall I carry it?"
"To——" Here the man hesitated, and finally answered, "There is no need of telling you. I will take it from you when we have got along far enough."
Ben was about to walk beside the owner of the valise; but the latter objected to this.
"You needn't walk beside me," he said. "Keep about a block ahead."
"But how will I know where to go?" asked Ben, naturally.
"You know where Broome Street runs into the Bowery?"
"Of course I do."