CHAPTER XXVII.

  AN UNLUCKY ERROR.

  Al's self-esteem had suffered a severe shock.

  He had considered himself quite competent to look out for "Number One,"but this plausible swindler, the very first person he had met on thetrain, had easily succeeded in swindling him out of all the valuables hehad about him.

  He had lost about a hundred and fifty dollars in cash, his watch, whichwas worth at least another hundred, and the valuable diamond ring thathad been presented to him on the stage of the Boomville Opera House.

  He was alone and penniless in a great city at two o'clock in themorning, with a mission to perform that would almost necessarily involvethe outlay of money.

  While he stood at the entrance of the Grand Central Depot the brakemanwho had addressed him on the car came along. Noticing the look of dismayon the boy's face, he said:

  "There's nothing the matter, is there?"

  "I should say there was."

  "What is it? That bunco man didn't get the best of you, after all, didhe?"

  "Rather."

  And Al proceeded to inform the man of his loss.

  His companion uttered a low whistle.

  "Well, he did soak it to you, for fair," he said. "He don't generallyplay that game; as a rule he works the thing in a more artistic way thanthat. Well, he got the money, all the same. It was a pretty good haul,too."

  "I don't see how he got that ring off my finger without waking me up,"said Al, ruefully.

  "Oh, he can do more than that," grinned the brakeman. "He'd manage torob you of your eyeteeth if he happened to take a fancy to them. He's adaisy!"

  "I wish you had warned me when you saw him talking to me on the train."

  "I couldn't very well do that; but I kept an eye on you both, and if Ihad seen him up to any funny business, I should have spoken. Hasn't heleft you any money at all?"

  "Not a cent."

  "Well, see here, I'll let you have a few dollars if you'll promise toreturn 'em as soon as you get funds."

  "Of course I will, and I am very much obliged to you," said Al,surprised at this unexpected offer.

  "Here you are, then."

  And the man handed him a small roll of bills.

  "Give me your address," said Al, "and I'll return this to you within aday or two, with something to boot."

  "I don't want anything to boot. I'll write down my address, if you'lllend me a pencil a minute."

  Al handed him a pencil. The man was about to write the address on theback of an envelope, when, to his amazement, his companion made a rushfor a cab that stood at the curbstone, gave the driver a few hastydirections in a low tone, and then leaped into the vehicle, whichimmediately started off at a rapid pace. Before the brakeman couldrecover from his astonishment, the cab had turned a corner anddisappeared.

  "Well," gasped the man, "if I haven't been buncoed myself, and by a kidat that. I'll bet he and the other fellow were pals. And I neversuspected it! Well, I'll get my ten dollars back if it costs me ahundred to do it. This is the last time I'll ever lend money to astranger. I wish I could hire some one to kick me round the block."

  The brakeman could scarcely be blamed for forming this opinion of Al,erroneous though it was. Appearances were certainly against the boy, andthe reader is, perhaps, wondering if he had suddenly become insane ordeveloped into a kleptomaniac.

  The reason for our hero's strange action was this: Just as he handed thebrakeman the pencil a carriage was passing the depot, from the window ofwhich peered the face of the very man for whom Al was seeking--JackFarley.

  There was no time for explanations; the carriage was going at a rapidrate. Al rushed out to the cab that stood at the entrance and said tothe driver:

  "Do you see that carriage yonder?--the one that is just about to turnthe corner? Follow it wherever it goes and I'll pay you well."

  "Enough said!" the man responded.

  As we have seen, the boy entered the cab, and was driven away.

  "That brakeman will think that I am a thief, too, I'm afraid," Al mused."Well, I can't help it; it will be all right to-morrow. But he is a goodfellow, and I don't like the idea of being misunderstood in that way byhim even for a few hours. There's no help for it, though; I couldn'tafford to let Farley get away from me!"

  The two vehicles kept at an even distance from each other until TenthStreet was reached. At the corner of that thoroughfare and Fifth Avenuethe carriage in advance came to a sudden halt.

  Al's driver stopped almost at the same moment.

  "What shall I do now, sir?" he called out to his passenger.

  "Go right ahead," the boy directed. "When you get to the spot, stop, ifthe other coach has not started again in the meantime; if it has, go onas long as it does."

  In less than a minute later Al's carriage once more come to astandstill.

  At the same moment a man leaped from the other carriage, advanced to thecab and threw open the door.

  "What do you mean," he demanded, "by following my carriage? I have beenonto you ever since you started. Who are you, and what do you want?"

  The man was not Jack Farley; he did not resemble him in any way.

  He was an elderly man, fashionably dressed, and had the appearance ofone who was on his way home after a ball, or some other socialfunction, with just enough wine on board to make him quarrelsome.

  "What is your little game?" continued the man. "Come, out with it; I amgoing to know."

  Al was decidedly embarrassed.

  "It is all a mistake," he stammered.

  "That's too thin," said the stranger. "I'm onto you; you are adetective! Now, what are you shadowing me for?"

  Al could not help laughing.

  "I am no more a detective than you, sir," he said. "I told my driver tofollow a certain carriage, and he has made a mistake; that's all thereis to it."

  "I made no mistake," interposed the driver, surlily. "This is thecarriage you told me to follow."

  "You are wrong; the man in that carriage was not this gentleman.Remember, it turned the corner before we left the depot, so you lostsight of it for half a minute or so."

  "That's so," admitted cabby.

  "It had probably turned out of the street before we turned into it, andyou, seeing this gentleman's carriage, supposed it to be the same, andfollowed it."

  "I guess that explains it."

  "Well, it doesn't explain it to me," said the aggrieved stranger. "Iconsider this affair an outrage, and I am going to have itinvestigated."

  "Go ahead and investigate, then," said Al, losing his patience. "You aremaking a mountain of a mole hill."

  "I am, eh? Well, you'll see whether I am or not. Cabman, I have yournumber."

  "That's all right; keep it," growled the jehu.

  "I shall keep it, and make good use of it, too. You will hear from meagain."

  And the man climbed back into his carriage, flushed almost as much withanger as with wine.