"Oh, no, I only occupy an humble room upstairs. Follow me, and I'll lead you to it."

The staircase was dirty, and in keeping with the external appearance of the house. The wall paper was torn off in places, and contrasted very unfavorably with the neat house of Deacon Hopkins. Sam noticed this, but he was tired and sleepy, and was not disposed to be over-critical, as he followed Mr. Brown in silence to the fourth floor.

CHAPTER XIII.

ROBBED IN HIS SLEEP.

Arrived at his destination Mr. Brown opened a door, and bade Sam enter. It was rather dark, and it was not until his host lighted a candle, that Sam could obtain an idea of the appearance of the room.

The ceiling was low, and the furniture scanty. A couple of chairs, a small table, of which the paint was worn off in spots, and a bed in the corner, were the complete outfit of Mr. Brown's home. He set the candle on the table, and remarked apologetically: "I don't live in much style, as you see. The fact is, I am at present in straitened circ.u.mstances. When my uncle dies I shall inherit a fortune. Then, when you come to see me, I will entertain you handsomely."

"Is your uncle rich?" asked Sam.

"I should say he was. He's a millionnaire."

"Why don't he do something for you now?"

Mr. Clarence Brown shrugged his shoulders.

"He's a very peculiar man--wants to keep every cent as long as he lives. When he's dead it's got to go to his heirs. That's why he lives in a palatial mansion on Madison Avenue, while I, his nephew, occupy a shabby apartment like this."

Sam looked about him, and mentally admitted the justice of the term.

It was a shabby apartment, without question. Still, he was to lodge there gratis, and it was not for him to complain.

"By the way," said Mr. Brown, casually, after exploring his pockets apparently without success, "you haven't got a quarter, have you?"

"Yes, I guess so."

"All right; I'll borrow it till to-morrow, if you don't mind."

"Certainly," said Sam, handing over the sum desired.

"I'll go out and get some whiskey. My system requires it. You won't mind being left alone for five minutes."

"Oh, no."

"Very good. I won't stay long."

Mr. Brown went out, and our hero sat down on the bed to wait for him.

"So this is my first night in the city," he thought. "I expected they had better houses. This room isn't half so nice as I had at the deacon's. But then I haven't got to hoe potatoes. I guess I'll like it when I get used to it. There isn't anybody to order me round here."

Presently Mr. Brown came back. He had a bottle partially full of whiskey with him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said. "Were you lonely?"

"Oh, no."

"I've got a couple of gla.s.ses here somewhere. Oh, here they are. Now we'll see how it tastes."

"Not much for me," said Sam. "I don't think I'll like it."

"It'll be good for your stomach. However, I won't give you much."

He poured out a little in one tumbler for Sam and a considerably larger amount for himself.

"Your health," he said, nodding.

"Thank you," said Sam,

Sam tasted the whiskey, but the taste did not please him. He set down the gla.s.s, but his host drained his at a draught.

"Don't you like it?" asked Brown.

"Not very much."

"Don't you care to drink it?"

"I guess not."

"It's a pity it should be wasted."

To prevent this, Mr. Brown emptied Sam's gla.s.s also.

"Now, if you are not sleepy, we might have a game of cards," suggested Brown.

"I think I'd rather go to bed," said Sam, yawning.

"All right! Go to bed any time. I dare say you are tired. Do you go to sleep easily?"

"In a jiffy."

"Then you won't mind my absence. I've got to make a call on a sick friend, but I shan't be out late. Just make yourself at home, go to sleep, and you'll see me in the morning."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't bolt the door, as I don't want to wake you up when I come in."

"All right."

Again Mr. Brown went out, and Sam undressed and got into bed. It was not very comfortable, and the solitary sheet looked as if it had not been changed for three months or more. However, Sam was not fastidious, and he was sleepy. So he closed his eyes, and was soon in the land of dreams.

It was about two hours afterward that Clarence Brown entered the room.

He walked on tiptoe to the bed, and looked at Sam.

"He's fast asleep," he said to himself. "Did he undress? Oh, yes, here are his clothes. I'll take the liberty of examining his pockets, to see whether my trouble is likely to be rewarded."