The two friends started from their room about seven o'clock, and walked up to Third Avenue, where they jumped on board a horse-car, and within half an hour were landed at the foot of the City Hall Park, opposite Beekman Street. From this point it was necessary only to cross the street to the Astor House.
The Astor House is a massive pile of gray stone, and has a solid look, as if it might stand for hundreds of years. When it was first erected, a little more than thirty years since, it was considered far up town, but now it is far down town, so rapid has been the growth of the city.
Richard Hunter ascended the stone steps with a firm step, but Henry Fosdick lingered behind.
"Do you think we had better go up, Dick?" he said irresolutely.
"Why not?"
"I feel awkward about it."
"There is no reason why you should. The money belongs to you rightfully, as the representative of your father, and it is worth trying for."
"I suppose you are right, but I shan't know what to say."
"I'll help you along if I find you need it. Come along."