“Two and a half apiece.  So there is no change coming back to you.”

“Never mind!  As long as you had enough money to pay for them it is all right.”

As a matter of fact Wheeler bought the tickets at the box office at one dollar and fifty cent each, which left him a profit of two dollars.  When he saw how easily the Western man took it he regretted not having represented that the tickets cost three dollars each.

However, he decided that there would be other ways of plundering his new acquaintance.  He took his seat again next to the miner.

“It is not very late,” he said.  “Would you like a run out to Central Park or to Grant’s Tomb?”

“Not today.  I feel rather tired.  By the way, you did not mention your name.”

“I haven’t a card with me, but my name is Louis Wheeler.”

“Where do you live, Mr. Wheeler?”

“I am staying with an aunt on Fifth Avenue, but I think of taking board at the Windsor Hotel.  It is a very high toned house, and quite a number of my friends board there.”

“Is it an expensive hotel?”

“Oh, yes, but my income is large and——­”

“I understand.  Now, Mr. Wheeler, I must excuse myself, as I feel tired.  Come at half past seven and we can start for the theater together.”

“Very well.”

Wheeler rose reluctantly, for he had intended to secure a dinner from his new acquaintance, but he was wise enough to take the hint.

After he left the room Rodney again joined Mr. Pettigrew.

“He didn’t give me back any change,” said the Western man.  “He said he bought the tickets of a speculator at two dollars and a half each.”

“Then he made two dollars out of you.”

“I suppose that is the beginning.  Well, that doesn’t worry me.  But I should like to know how he expects to get more money out of me.  I don’t understand the ways of this gentry.”

“Nor I very well.  If you are on your guard I think you won’t be in any danger.”

“I will remember what you say.  You seem young to act as adviser to a man like me.  Are you in business?”

“At present I am out of work, but I have money enough to last me three months.”

“Are you, like my new acquaintance, possessed of independent means?”

“Not now, but I was six months ago.”

“How did you lose your money?”

“I did not lose it.  My guardian lost it for me.”

“What is your name?”

“Rodney Ropes.”

“You’ve had some pretty bad luck.  Come up to my room and tell me about it.”

“I shall be glad to do so, sir.”

Mr. Pettigrew called for his key and led the way up to a plain room on the third floor.

“Come in,” he said.  “The room is small, but I guess it will hold us both.  Now go ahead with your story.”

In a short time Rodney had told his story in full to his new acquaintance, encouraged to do so by his sympathetic manner.  Mr. Pettigrew was quite indignant, when told of Jasper’s mean and treacherous conduct.