"What on earth can carry that old scarecrow up to New York?" thought Mr. Collins, as he eyed curiously old Anthony, who, with Mark, was seated a few steps in front of him, in the same car. "I suppose he has a pension from some source, and is going to collect it."
It may be remarked that James Collins had never communicated to his father the discovery made in the forest, connected with the pot of gold.
CHAPTER XXII.
IN AN OFFICE ON BROADWAY.
Mr. Hardy's office was in a large, high building, on Broadway. It was the fifth floor, but there was an elevator constantly running, which made it nearly as easy of access as if it had been on the first.
Mark had never before ridden in an elevator, and he enjoyed the novelty of it. From a directory, near the entrance, they ascertained that Mr. Hardy occupied office No. 55, and this was easily found.
"Welcome to New York," said the agent, advancing cordially, to greet his visitors. "Good morning, Mark. So you have piloted my old friend safely."
"I think he has piloted me, sir. I know very little of the city."
"I have not been here for five years," said Anthony, reflectively. "I am unused to the noise, and it confuses me."
"I like it," said Mark.