He felt for the watch, but did not find it.
“Where’s the boy put it?” Tom heard him mutter. “It certainly isn’t here.”
Apparently Livingston concluded that it might be under his pillow, for he begun to search there. This did not altogether suit our hero, and he purposely made a noise, as if on the point of waking up. It answered the purpose. Livingston cautiously retreated, and as Tom changed his position in bed so as to face him, he seemed to conclude that it was best to give up the search.
“So he’s a swindler too!” thought Tom. “He warned me that the city was full of them, and I find he’s right. Of course his story about being a merchant from Buffalo, and buying two thousand dollars’ worth of goods, is all a lie.”
Tom lay awake half an hour. At the end of that time, judging from the deep breathing that Livingston was asleep, he allowed himself to fall asleep too. When he woke up it was six o’clock in the morning. His companion was still asleep. Tom quietly dressed himself, and then went to Livingston’s bedside and shook him.
“Eh! what’s the matter?” demanded the merchant from Buffalo, opening his eyes. “Oh, it’s you, is it? What makes you get up so early?”
“I went to bed early, you know,” said Tom. “By the way, Mr. Livingston, I’ll trouble you for that money you borrowed of me last night.”
“I—borrowed money! You must be crazy,” said Livingston, looking uncomfortable.
“I saw you open my pocket-book and take out a five-dollar bill,” said Tom coolly. “I shall need it, and must ask you to return it.”
“Do you mean to insult me?” blustered Livingston.