At ten o'clock he felt the promptings of appetite, and, passing an oyster saloon, determined to go in and order a stew.
It was not a very fashionable place. There was a general air of dinginess and lack of neatness pervading the place. The apartment was small, and low-studded. On one side was a bar, on the other, two or three small compartments provided with tables, with curtains screening them from the main room.
It was not a very inviting place, but the newsboy, though more particular than most of his class, reflected that the oysters might nevertheless be good.
"Give us a stew," he said to a young man behind the counter, whose countenance was ornamented with pimples.
"All right. Anything to drink?"
"No sir," said our hero.
Rufus entered the only one of the alcoves which was unoccupied. The curtains of the other two were drawn. The one which he selected was the middle one of three, so that what was going on in both was audible to him. The one in front appeared to have a solitary occupant, and nothing was heard from it but the clatter of a knife and fork.
But there were evidently two persons in the other, for Rufus was able to make out a low conversation which was going on between them. The first words were heard with difficulty, but afterwards, either because they spoke louder or because his ear got more accustomed to the sounds, he made out everything.
"You are sure about the money, Jim," said one.
"Yes."