"All right!" said the young guest, rising from his seat quickly. "We will take the elevator, for my room is on the top floor."
"In business hours," said Rupert, "I am not allowed to use the elevator. Now I am no longer a bell-boy, but your visitor."
The room was a small hall bedroom. It was one that was let for seventy-five cents a day, while the better and larger rooms ranged upwards to a dollar and a half. The room contained one chair only.
"Please take a seat," said the young host.
"But where will you sit?"
"I will sit on the bed. I don't know but you will laugh at me," he went on, "when I tell you what brought me to New York."
"Oh, no. I shall not laugh at you. But first, as we are to be friends, let me tell you my name and ask yours. I am Rupert Rollins."
"That is a nice name. It sounds like a story name. Mine is Leslie Waters."
"Where do you live?"'