"It is half-past five," he said. "We may as well start now."
He rose leisurely from his seat, and Jed followed him. He walked to the head of the Battery, and keeping near the piers, led the way to a humble tavern called "The Sailor's Rest."
"This will do," he said. "It is not very fashionable, but they can give us a comfortable meal."
Certainly the interior presented a great contrast to the Astor House, where Jed had lunched, or rather dined. The floor was sanded, the tables were unprovided with tablecloths. There was a bar on one side of the room, over which presided a stout bartender with mottled cheeks and a dirty white apron.
"Where is the restaurant?" asked Jed's companion.
"In there," answered the bartender with a jerk of his finger in the direction of a back room.
With a nod the sallow-faced man beckoned Jed to follow him. Opening a door, he led the way into a room provided with four tables only. On each table was a small bell.
Jed and his guide sat down, and the latter rang the bell.
A dirty-faced man, with a beard of several days' growth, made his appearance.
"We want some supper."