The speaker was Neil Lowell, who stood in the presence of his employer, hat in hand.
The old gentleman glanced up in surprise.
"No! That is the first time you have ever asked that. Are you going out?"
"With your permission."
"Hang it, boy, a servant has some time off, and you never take any. It would really do me good to have you go out more. You never do unless I send you. Go, and come back when you get ready."
"Thank you!"
Lowell did not wait for further words, but left the room, and instead of going directly to the street, as his dress would have indicated that he intended, he went to his room again.
He locked the door and hurriedly disrobed. Ten minutes later, a red-brown wig was drawn over his cropped head, and a suit that indicated shabby gentility had taken its place. An old and much-worn hat was placed upon his head, completing a most excellent disguise.
"If Mr. Pryor, or any one in the house discovers me, I shall tell him quietly that I am engaged upon a piece of detective work, and he will be perfectly satisfied and ask no further questions, bless his dear old heart; but I must prevent detection if I can," muttered the boy to himself as he left the room, and, taking the servants' stairway, went down and very quietly let himself into the street.
He took the elevated train and rode down-town, leaving it at the Bleecker Street Station, then walked quickly across town.