come home drunk," thought our hero. "It seems to me it
is fashionable to drink here."

Tom's experience of city life was very limited. It was not long before
he learned that Pittsburg was by no means exceptional in this respect.

He ushered his companion safely into the hotel, and then a servant took
charge of him, and led him to his room. Tom sat up a little while
longer, reading a paper he found in the office, and then went to bed.

"I suppose Mr. Graham will come home late," he said to himself. "I must
leave the door unlocked."

He soon went to sleep. How long he slept he did not know, but suddenly
awoke after an interval. Opening his eyes he became conscious that
Graham had returned. He discovered something more. His roommate,
partially undressed, and with his back turned to Tom, was engaged in
searching our hero's pockets. This discovery set Tom broad awake at
once. He was not frightened, but rather amused when he thought of
Graham's disappointment. He did not think it best to speak, but
counterfeited sleep.

"I wonder where the boy keeps his money," he heard Graham mutter.
"Perhaps it is in his coat pocket. No, there is nothing but a
handkerchief. He's more careful than I gave him credit for. Perhaps it
is under his pillow."

He laid down the clothes, and approached the bed. Tom, with some effort,
kept his eyes firmly closed.

Graham slid his hand lightly under the pillow, but withdrew it with all
exclamation of disappointment.

"He must have some money," he muttered. "Ah, I have it! It is in his
valise."

He approached Tom's valise, but it was locked. He drew out a bunch of
keys, and tried one after the other, but in vain. Our hero feared he
might resort to violent means of opening it, and turned in bed. Graham
wheeled round quickly.

Tom stretched, and opened his eyes languidly.

"Is that you, Mr. Graham?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Graham nonchalantly, proceeding to undress himself.
"Have you been abed long?"

"I don't know," answered Tom. "What time is it?"

"Haven't you got a watch?"

"No, I am not rich enough."

"It is one o'clock. I hadn't seen my friend for a long time, and
couldn't get away till late. By the way, have you got a key about you? I
can't open my carpetbag."

Tom thought of suggesting the bunch of keys in Graham's pocket, but
decided not to.

"My key is in my pants' pocket."

"Suppose you get it," said Graham. "I don't like to feel in another
person's pocket. There