But at last the time came when he might safely seek out the gentleman to whom he had an introduction.  Being a stranger in the city, he had to inquire for Pearl Street from a policeman, who answered his inquiry very civilly.  He followed the direction, and found it at length.  But the number of which he was in search was not so easily found, for he found the street meandered in a very perplexing way, so that at times he was not quite sure whether he was still in it, or had wandered from his way.

At last he found the place.  It was a large, solid-looking building, of four stories in height.  There were a number of boxes outside on the sidewalk.  Inside, there was a large apartment occupying the entire first floor, with the exception of a room in the rear, which had been partitioned off for a counting-room.  The partition was of glass, and, as he looked from the entrance, he could see a couple of high desks and a table.

“Is this Godfrey & Lynn’s?” he asked of a porter at the entrance.

“Yes,” said the porter.

“I want to see Mr. Godfrey.”

“I don’t think he’s in.  You can go to the office and inquire.”

Accordingly, Herbert passed down the length of the warehouse, and, pausing a moment before the door, he opened it, and entered.

There were two persons in the office.  One was a thin-faced man, who sat on a high stool at one of the desks, making entries apparently in the ledger.  This was the bookkeeper, Mr. Pratt, a man with a melancholy face, who looked as if he had lived to see the vanity of all things earthly.  He had a high forehead naturally—­made still higher by the loss of his front hair.  Apparently, he was not a man to enjoy conviviality, or to shine on any festive occasion.

Besides Mr. Pratt, there was a boy, if we may take the liberty of calling him such, of about Herbert’s age.  He was fashionably dressed, and his hair was arranged with exceeding care.  In fact, as Herbert entered, he was examining the set of his necktie in a little hand-glass, which he had taken from his coat pocket.  Not quite suiting him, he set himself to rearranging it.

“Have you copied that bill, Thomas?” asked Mr. Pratt, looking up.

“Not yet, sir.”

“You have been long enough about it.  Put back that glass.  You are quite too much troubled about your appearance.”

“Yes, sir.

“If I didn’t look any better than some people,” said Thomas, sotto voce, “I shouldn’t look in a glass very often.”

Herbert naturally concluded that Mr. Pratt was the man to whom his inquiries should be addressed.

“I would like to see Mr. Godfrey, sir.” he said.

“He is out of the city.”

“Out of the city!” repeated Herbert, disappointed.  “When will he be back?”

“Nor till day after to-morrow.”

Herbert’s countenance fell.  In his reduced circumstances, he could hardly afford to wait two days.  At his present rate of expenditure, he would be penniless by that time.