Ragged Dick, or, Street Life in New York by Horatio Alger Jr. Chapter 18, 19, 20, 21, 22

“Good!” thought Travis, with satisfaction. “If they don’t find out for twenty-four hours, it’ll be too late, then, and I shall be all right.”

There being a possibility of the loss being discovered before the boys went out in the morning, Travis determined to see them at that time, and judge whether such was the case. He waited, therefore, until he heard the boys come out, and then opened his own door.

“Morning, gents,” said he, sociably. “Going to business?”

“Yes,” said Dick. “I’m afraid my clerks’ll be lazy if I ain’t on hand.”

“Good joke!” said Travis. “If you pay good wages, I’d like to speak for a place.”

“I pay all I get myself,” said Dick. “How’s business with you?”

“So so. Why don’t you call round, some time?”

“All my evenin’s is devoted to literatoor and science,” said Dick. “Thank you all the same.”

“Where do you hang out?” inquired Travis, in choice language, addressing Fosdick.

“At Henderson’s hat and cap store, on Broadway.”

“I’ll look in upon you some time when I want a tile,” said Travis. “I suppose you sell cheaper to your friends.”

“I’ll be as reasonable as I can,” said Fosdick, not very cordially; for he did not much fancy having it supposed by his employer that such a disreputable-looking person as Travis was a friend of his.

However, Travis had no idea of showing himself at the Broadway store, and only said this by way of making conversation, and encouraging the boys to be social.

“You haven’t any of you gents seen a pearl-handled knife, have you?” he asked.

“No,” said Fosdick; “have you lost one?”

“Yes,” said Travis, with unblushing falsehood. “I left it on my bureau a day or two since. I’ve missed one or two other little matters. Bridget don’t look to me any too honest. Likely she’s got ’em.”

“What are you goin’ to do about it?” said Dick.

“I’ll keep mum unless I lose something more, and then I’ll kick up a row, and haul her over the coals. Have you missed anything?”

“No,” said Fosdick, answering for himself, as he could do without violating the truth.

There was a gleam of satisfaction in the eyes of Travis, as he heard this.

“They haven’t found it out yet,” he thought. “I’ll bag the money to-day, and then they may whistle for it.”

Having no further object to serve in accompanying the boys, he bade them good-morning, and turned down another street.

“He’s mighty friendly all of a sudden,” said Dick.

“Yes,” said Fosdick; “it’s very evident what it all means. He wants to find out whether you have discovered your loss or not.”

“But he didn’t find out.”

“No; we’ve put him on the wrong track. He means to get his money to-day, no doubt.”

“My money,” suggested Dick.

“I accept the correction,” said Fosdick.

“Of course, Dick, you’ll be on hand as soon as the bank opens.”

“In course I shall. Jim Travis’ll find he’s walked into the wrong shop.”

“The bank opens at ten o’clock, you know.”

“I’ll be there on time.”

The two boys separated.

“Good luck, Dick,” said Fosdick, as he parted from him. “It’ll all come out right, I think.”

“I hope ’twill,” said Dick.

He had recovered from his temporary depression, and made up his mind that the money would be recovered. He had no idea of allowing himself to be outwitted by Jim Travis, and enjoyed already, in anticipation, the pleasure of defeating his rascality.

It wanted two hours and a half yet to ten o’clock, and this time to Dick was too precious to be wasted. It was the time of his greatest harvest. He accordingly repaired to his usual place of business, succeeded in obtaining six customers, which yielded him sixty cents. He then went to a restaurant, and got some breakfast. It was now half-past nine, and Dick, feeling that it wouldn’t do to be late, left his box in charge of Johnny Nolan, and made his way to the bank.

The officers had not yet arrived, and Dick lingered on the outside, waiting till they should come. He was not without a little uneasiness, fearing that Travis might be as prompt as himself, and finding him there, might suspect something, and so escape the snare. But, though looking cautiously up and down the street, he could discover no traces of the supposed thief. In due time ten o’clock struck, and immediately afterwards the doors of the bank were thrown open, and our hero entered.

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Categories: Horatio Alger, Jr.