“Is he—­what do you know of him?” asked Lord Bedford, laying aside his air of indifference.

“I know that he is an adventurer and a thief.  I made his acquaintance on a Hudson River steamer, and he walked off with my valise and a small sum of money.”

“Is this true?” asked the Englishman, in amazement.

“Quite true.  He is wearing one of my neckties at this moment.”

“The confounded cad!” ejaculated the Englishman, angrily.  “I suppose he intended to rob me.”

“I have no doubt of it.  That is why I ventured to put you on your guard.”

“I am a thousand times obliged to you.  Why, the fellow told me he belonged to one of the best families in New York.”

“If he does, he doesn’t do much credit to the family.”

“Quite true!  Why, he was praising everything English.  He evidently wanted to gain my confidence.”

“May I ask where you met him?” asked Carl.

“On the train.  He offered me a light.  Before I knew it, he was chatting familiarly with me.  But his game is spoiled.  I will let him know that I see through him and his designs.”  “Then my object is accomplished,” said Carl.  “Please excuse my want of ceremony.”  He turned to leave, but Bedford called him back.

“If you are going to the falls, remain with me,” he said.  “We shall enjoy it better in company.”

“With pleasure.  Let me introduce myself as Carl Crawford.  I am traveling on business and don’t belong to one of the first families.”

“I see you will suit me,” said the Englishman, smiling.

Just then up came Stuyvesant, panting and breathless.  “My lord,” he said, “I lost sight of you.  If you will allow me I will join you.

“Sir!” said the Englishman, in a freezing voice, “I have not the honor of knowing you.”

Stuyvesant was overwhelmed.

“I—­I hope I have not offended you, my lord,” he said.

“Sir, I have learned your character from this young man.”

This called the attention of Stuyvesant to Carl.  He flushed as he recognized him.

“Mr. Stuyvesant,” said Carl, “I must trouble you to return the valise you took from my stateroom, and the pocketbook which you borrowed.  My name is Carl Crawford, and my room is 71.”

Stuyvesant turned away abruptly.  He left the valise at the desk, but Carl never recovered his money.

CHAPTER XXXV.

What Carl learned in Chicago.

As Carl walked back from the falls he met Mr. Atwood, who was surprised to find his young acquaintance on such intimate terms with Lord Bedford.  He was about to pass with a bow, when Carl, who was good-natured, said:  “Won’t you join us, Mr. Atwood?  If Lord Bedford will permit, I should like to introduce you.”

“Glad to know any friend of yours, Mr. Crawford,” said the Englishman, affably.