“Take some dinner first, Paul.”
“Then I must hurry it down, mother; I don't want to run the risk of getting too late to Ball & Black's. I can't help thinking what a splendid thing it would be if we had the two hundred and fifty dollars. I would buy out Barry's stand, and I would get a sewing-machine for you, and we could live much more comfortably. It makes me mad to think I let that villain take me in so! He must think me jolly green.”
“Anybody might have been deceived, Paul. You mustn't blame yourself too much for that.”
Leaving Paul on his way to Ball & Black's, we return to Mr. Felix Montgomery, as we shall continue to call him, though he had no right to the name. After stupefying Paul, as already described, he made his way downstairs, and, leaving his key at the desk, went out.
“I hope my young friend will enjoy himself upstairs,” he chuckled to himself. “He's quite welcome to the use of the room till to-morrow morning. It's paid for in advance, and I don't think I shall find it convenient to stop there.”
He took the ring from his vest pocket and glanced at it furtively.
“It's a beauty,” he murmured, complacently. “I never saw a handsomer ring of the size. What was it the boy said he was offered for it? Two hundred and fifty dollars! That'll give me a lift, and it doesn't come any too soon. My money is pretty low.”
He walked across the City Hall Park, and at Barclay street entered a University place car.
“Evenin' paper, mister?” said a ragged newsboy, whose garments were constructed on the most approved system of ventilation.
“What have you got?”