"Are there two beds in a room?" asked the stranger.
"Yes."
"Then I don't object to occupying it with this young man. He is a stranger to me, but I watched him on board the train, and I am sure he is all right."
"Thank you, sir," said Fred.
"Well," said the clerk, "what does the boy say?"
Fred looked curiously at his companion. He was so muffled up that he could only see a pair of black eyes, a long sallow nose, and cheeks covered with dark whiskers. The train boy did not fancy his looks much, but could think of no good reason for declining him as a room companion. He felt that the gentleman had paid him a compliment in offering to room with him, particularly when, as he stated, he had a considerable amount of money about him. He paused a moment only, before he said, "Perhaps we may as well room together, then."
"All right! I will go up with you, as the hall boy has gone to bed. I hardly expected any guests by this late train."
The clerk took the stranger's valise—Fred had only a small paper parcel in his hand, containing a clean shirt and a collar which he had bought in Jersey City before taking passage on the train. Up one flight of stairs the clerk preceded them and paused in front of No. 21, the back room referred to. He unlocked the door, and entering, lighted the gas.
It was a room about twelve feet wide by twenty in depth. At each end was a single bedstead.
"I think you will be comfortable," said the clerk. "Is there anything you want before retiring?"