Ten minutes later Jack found himself passing through the Subway gate at Forty-second Street, entirely unobserved by anybody, and therefore relieved of the necessity of paying his fare. The invisible cloak was doing its duty nobly, but a moment later the lad had an example of its dangers as well as of its virtues, for as he sat quietly by the door of the car trying to collect his flustered thoughts, a very stout German gentleman got aboard the train and sat down heavily upon him. He did not stay, however, but on the contrary, with a startled cry of alarm, rose up as quickly as he had sat down. [Illustration: "DERE ISS SOMEDINGS IN DOT SEADT, ALRETTY YET!"] "Dere iss somedings in dot seadt, alretty yet!" he cried to the guard, excitedly. Jack slipped noiselessly out of the seat, and the guard, after feeling around in it for a second or two, turned with scorn upon the astonished Teuton, and in language of a slightly unparliamentary cast advised him to change his diet. "You'll be seein' t'ings next!" he said. Jack shook with internal laughter as the amazed son of the Rhine sat cautiously down again, his face showing a deal of relief to find that his first spooky impression was not correct, all of which for the remainder of the trip down-town he openly expressed with considerable volubility. Finally he was interrupted by the raucous voice of the guard crying: "Wall Street!" Now Jack had not consciously started out to go to Wall Street, but the announcement of the train's arrival there gave him a thrill. "Wall Street, eh?" he muttered. "Ha! Hum! Methinks the financial stringency is over if this little old coat holds out! I seem to detect the odor of money." He mounted the steps to the street, and wandered aimlessly down the great financial highway until he found himself standing before the gorgeous façade of the famous Urban National Bank. Here he paused a moment, and curiosity as much as anything else led him to enter its portals, and there within lay spread before his famished financial eyes, separated from his hands only by a slight bit of steel grillwork, countless packages, huge of bulk, of bank-notes, in all denominations, any one of which, once in his possession, would serve to put him at ease for the remainder of the year. Monte Cristo himself had no such stores of wealth within his reach in the treasure-caves of his wondrous island. The teller behind the grill was counting the contents of his safe, and as he bent over to foot up a column of figures Jack stopped in front of the little window and said: "Good-morning!" He did this not so much for the fun of it as for a precautionary test of his invisibility, for a great scheme had entered his mind. The teller looked up, craned his neck in every direction, and peered around to see who had addressed him. [Illustration: "THERE MUST BE SOMETHING THE MATTER WITH MY NERVES"]