."

"I have been in their employ for five years. Before that I worked for
Claflin."

"Indeed!"

"You do not mention the name of your firm."

"No, I am traveling on private business for the head of the firm."

"Ah, yes. I don't wish to be inquisitive. You do right to keep the
business to yourself."

"You see, it is not my business."

"Just so! You are young for a business agent."

"That is true, but I am growing older every day."

"Exactly so! Good joke!"

Andy's companion laughed quite heartily, rather to the surprise of his
young acquaintance.

"I am very glad to have met you. You see, I am very social, and can't
stand being alone. By the way, where do you stop in Chicago?"

"At the Sherman House."

"Good hotel! I have stopped there often. Still, there is nothing as
homelike as a private house. I have a friend living in the city who
keeps a first-class boarding house and only charges transient guests a
dollar and a quarter a day. I wish you could be induced to go there with
me. At the hotel you will have to pay three or four dollars."

Now, Andy was naturally economical, and thought it would be praiseworthy
to save money for Mr. Crawford. He inquired the location of the boarding
house, and imprudently decided to act on his companion's proposal.

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE TRAP.

Andy left the depot with his new acquaintance, who gave his name as
Percival Robinson, and, following his lead, boarded a horse car, which
took them both a distance of three miles to the southern part of the
city. As they went on, dwellings became scattering.

"Your friend's house seems quite out of the way," said Andy.

"Yes; but Chicago is a city of distances. It really doesn't make much
difference where you stop. Street cars will carry you anywhere."

"Still it would be pleasanter to be centrally located."

"But by going some way out you get cheaper accommodations."

"That is true," thought Andy; "and I have time enough."

At length Robinson signaled to the conductor to stop.

Andy followed him out of the car. They seemed to be in the very
outskirts of the city.

Robinson led the way to a rather shabby brick house standing by itself.
It was three stories in height.

"This is where my friend lives," he said, walking up the front steps and
ringing the front-door bell.

Two minutes later the door was opened by a red-haired man in his shirt
sleeves.

"Hello, Tom!" he exclaimed.

"I thought his name was Perc