“Is anything wrong?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Herbert.  “He has robbed me of my pocketbook, containing all my money.”

“Whew!” whistled the clerk.  “How much had you?”

“About sixty dollars.”

“You’re unlucky, that’s a fact.  Have you nothing left?”

Just then it flashed across Herbert’s mind that when he had paid for his supper he had changed a five-dollar bill, and placed the balance, about four dollars and a half in his vest pocket.  He at once felt in that pocket, and found it still there.  Greenleaf had contented himself with the pocketbook.

“I have a little left,” he said.

He paid for his room in advance for another day, and went down to breakfast.

CHAPTER XXIII

A BUSINESS CALL

It was certainly a startling discovery for Herbert to make, that out of sixty dollars he had only four left, now that he had paid for another day at the hotel, and this small sum must be further diminished by the expense of a breakfast.  Unfortunately, too, he was quite hungry, for his misfortune had not taken away his appetite.

“I will make a good breakfast, at any rate,” said Herbert, philosophically.  “Afterwards, I will consider what to do.”

He ordered a substantial breakfast, which, even at the low prices of a dozen years ago, amounted to fifty cents, and did full justice to what was set before him.

After paying at the desk, he went outside.

It was a bright, sunshiny morning, and this, with the comfortable feeling produced by having eaten a good breakfast, gave him courage for the new career upon which he was about to enter.

While considering what he should do first, the thought of the letter given him by Mr. Carroll flashed upon him.  He felt for it hastily, and was rejoiced to find that that was safe, at least.  Greenleaf had not taken that away, fortunately.

He looked at the direction.  It was addressed to

“Messrs. Godfrey & Lynn,
No. ——­ Pearl St.”

It was not sealed, and was probably meant to be read by Herbert.  At any rate, our hero so concluded, and opened the letter, not without curiosity as to what Mr. Carroll had written about him.  He knew it must be favorable, of course, but found it even more so than he anticipated.

Here it is: 

“My dear Mr. Godfrey:  This letter will be handed you by a young friend of mine, by name Herbert Mason.  My acquaintance with him has been brief, but he has been able, by his coolness and bravery, to do me a most important service, having saved me from being robbed of a large sum of money while acting as my escort from Ohio to Philadelphia.  I have talked with him freely about his plans, and find that he will reach New York without friends, and with a very small sum of money, hoping before it is gone to secure a place in some counting-room, where