“Do you know of any we can call in?”
“My wife agreed to send for one on Sixth Avenue,” said the stranger. “I didn't wait for him to come, but set out for the store.”
Nothing could be more ready or plausible than the answers of his new acquaintance, and Phil was by no means of a suspicious temperament. Had he lived longer in the city it might have occurred to him that there was something rather unusual in the circumstances, but he knew that Mr. Carter had spoken of leaving the house at the breakfast-table, indeed had left it before he himself had set out for the store. For the time being the thought of the sum of money which he carried with him had escaped his memory, but it was destined very soon to be recalled to his mind.
They had nearly reached Sixth Avenue, when his guide stopped in front of a shabby brick house.
“This is where I live,” he said. “We will go in.”
He produced a key, opened the door, and Phil accompanied him up a shabby staircase to the third floor. He opened the door of a rear room, and made a sign to Phil to enter.
CHAPTER XXXII.
PHIL IS ROBBED.
When he was fairly in the room Phil looked about him expecting to see Mr. Carter, but the room appeared unoccupied. He turned to his companion, a look of surprise on his face, but he was destined to be still more surprised, and that not in a pleasant way. His guide had locked the door from the inside and put the key in his pocket.