There was besides this interest credited to the amount of seventy-five dollars. The deposits, therefore, made a grand total of $875. No doubt Mr. Stuyvesant had stolen this book, but had not as yet found an opportunity of utilizing it. “What’s dat?” asked the colored servant. “A savings bank book. My roommate must have dropped it. It appears to belong to a lady named Rachel Norris. I wish I could get it to her.” “Is she an Albany lady, sir?” “I don’t know.” “You might look in the directory.” “So I will. It is a good idea.” “I hope the gemman didn’t take all your money, sir.” “No; he didn’t even take half of it. I only wish I had been awake when the boat got to the dock.” “I would have called you, sir, if you had asked me.” “I am not much used to traveling. I shall know better next time what to do.” The finding of the bank book partially consoled Carl for the loss of his pocketbook and gripsack. He was glad to be able to defeat Stuyvesant in one of his nefarious schemes, and to be the instrument of returning Miss Norris her savings bank book. When he left the boat he walked along till he reached a modest-looking hotel, where he thought the charges would be reasonable. He entered, and, going to the desk, asked if he could have a room. “Large or small?” inquired the clerk. “Small.” “No. 67. Will you go up now?” “Yes, sir.” “Any baggage?” “No; I had it stolen on the boat.” The clerk looked a little suspicious. “We must require pay in advance, then,” he said. “Certainly,” answered Carl, pulling out a roll of bills. “I suppose you make special terms to commercial travelers?” “Are you a drummer?” “Yes. I represent Henry Jennings, of Milford, New York.” “All right, sir. Our usual rates are two dollars a day. To you they will be a dollar and a quarter.” “Very well; I will pay you for two days. Is breakfast ready?” “It is on the table, sir.” “Then I will go in at once. I will go to my room afterwards.” In spite of his loss, Carl had a hearty appetite, and did justice to the comfortable breakfast provided. He bought a morning paper, and ran his eye over the advertising columns. He had never before read an Albany paper, and wished to get an idea of the city in its business aspect. It occurred to him that there might be an advertisement of the lost bank book. But no such notice met his eyes. He went up to his room, which was small and plainly furnished, but looked comfortable. Going down again to the office, he looked into the Albany directory to see if he could find the name of Rachel Norris. There was a Rebecca Norris, who was put down as a dressmaker, but that was as near as he came to Rachel Norris.