“Large or small?” inquired the clerk.

“Small.”

“No. 67.  Will you go up now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any baggage?”

“No; I had it stolen on the boat.”

The clerk looked a little suspicious.

“We must require pay in advance, then,” he said.

“Certainly,” answered Carl, pulling out a roll of bills.  “I suppose you make special terms to commercial travelers?”

“Are you a drummer?”

“Yes.  I represent Henry Jennings, of Milford, New York.”

“All right, sir.  Our usual rates are two dollars a day.  To you they will be a dollar and a quarter.”

“Very well; I will pay you for two days.  Is breakfast ready?”

“It is on the table, sir.”

“Then I will go in at once.  I will go to my room afterwards.”

In spite of his loss, Carl had a hearty appetite, and did justice to the comfortable breakfast provided.  He bought a morning paper, and ran his eye over the advertising columns.  He had never before read an Albany paper, and wished to get an idea of the city in its business aspect.  It occurred to him that there might be an advertisement of the lost bank book.  But no such notice met his eyes.

He went up to his room, which was small and plainly furnished, but looked comfortable.  Going down again to the office, he looked into the Albany directory to see if he could find the name of Rachel Norris.

There was a Rebecca Norris, who was put down as a dressmaker, but that was as near as he came to Rachel Norris.

Then he set himself to looking over the other members of the Norris family.  Finally he picked out Norris & Wade, furnishing goods, and decided to call at the store and inquire if they knew any lady named Rachel Norris.  The prospect of gaining information in this way did not seem very promising, but no other course presented itself, and Carl determined to follow up the clew, slight as it was.

Though unacquainted with Albany streets, he had little difficulty in finding the store of Norris & Wade.  It was an establishment of good size, well supplied with attractive goods.  A clerk came forward to wait upon Carl.

“What can I show you?” he asked.

“You may show me Mr. Norris, if you please,” responded Carl, with a smile.

“He is in the office,” said the clerk, with an answering smile.

Carl entered the office and saw Mr. Norris, a man of middle age, partially bald, with a genial, business-like manner.

“Well, young man?” he said, looking at Carl inquiringly.

“You must excuse me for troubling you, sir,” said Carl, who was afraid Mr. Norris would laugh at him, “but I thought you might direct me to Rachel Norris.”

Mr. Norris looked surprised.

“What do you want of Rachel Norris?” he asked, abruptly.

“I have a little business with her,” answered Carl.