an hour found himself in the
city everywhere known by the granite shaft that commemorates the
battle of Bunker Hill. He made his way to a hotel, where he took a
room, entering here under the name of James Simmons, Portsmouth, New
Hampshire. Anxious to examine his prize, he desired to be shown at
once to a chamber. He followed the servant who conducted him with
impatient steps. The stolen money was burning in his pocket. He wanted
to know how much he had, and was more than half resolved to take an
early train the next morning for the West, where he thought he should
be secure from discovery.

"Is there anything wanted, sir?" asked the servant, lingering at the
door.

"No, no," said Fairfax, impatiently. "It's all right."

"Might be a little more polite," muttered the snubbed servant, as he
went downstairs.

"Now for it!" exclaimed Fairfax, exultingly. "Now, let me see how much
I have got."

He drew the pocketbook from his pocket, and opened it. His heart gave
a quick thump, and he turned ashy pale, as his glance rested upon the
worthless roll of brown paper with which it had been stuffed.

"Curse the boy!" he cried, in fierce and bitter disappointment. "He
has fooled me, after all! Why didn't I stop long enough to open the
pocketbook before I came away? Blind, stupid fool that I was! I am as
badly off as before--nay, worse, for I have exposed myself to
suspicion, and haven't got a penny to show for it."

I will not dwell upon his bitter self-reproaches, and, above all, the
intense mortification he felt at having been so completely fooled by a
boy, whom he had despised as verdant and inexperienced in the ways of
the, world--to think that success had been in his grasp, and he had
missed it, after all, was certainly disagreeable enough. It occurred
to him that he might go back to the Adams House even now, and repair
his blunder. It was not likely that Andy was awake yet. He was very
weary, and boys of his age were likely, unless disturbed, to sleep
through the night. He might retrieve his error, and no one would be
the wiser.

"I'll do it," he said, at length.

He went downstairs, and left the hotel without the knowledge of the
clerk. Jumping into the horse-cars, he returned to Boston, and entered
the Adams House about half-past twelve o'clock. He claimed his key at
the desk, and went upstairs to his room. He had scarcely lit the gas,
however, when a knock was heard at the door. Opening it
unsuspiciously, he tu