“The fellow you have been asking about.” “I have not been boarding anybody: I don’t keep a boarding-house. I let him take eighteen dollars of mine to put in the savings bank, and get me a book; and I haven’t seen him since. And now I want to find him.” “When you do find him, I want you to let me know, for it will be a thing worth knowing,” laughed the keeper. “You needn’t laugh at me,” said Wade, a little hurt, for it seemed like laughing at a funeral to him, after he had lost all the boat had brought except two dollars. “Served you right, sonny; and, if the lesson you have learned costs you only eighteen dollars, you bought it cheap,” added the keeper. “Some of the countrymen who come here lose hundreds of dollars in just the way you lost your money: so you got off cheap.” “It wasn’t my fault, for I thought he was a missionary,” Wade explained. “So he is,--a missionary to enlighten countrymen who will trust their money in the hands of such dead beats,” chuckled the keeper. “You can inquire at the Fifth Avenue Hotel for him.” The man turned to attend to a customer; and Wade retreated into the street, for being laughed at was almost as bad as being robbed of his money. Near the restaurant he met a policeman. Klucker had told him what the man in the uniform was, and had explained to him a great many other things, in answer to his questions, on the way to the bank. He told his story to the policeman; but he treated the matter very lightly, and candidly told him he would never see his money again. But he went back to the restaurant with him, and went through the form of asking a great many questions; but nothing came of his investigation. Wade tramped up to the bank again. He went in, and asked if Mr. Klucker, or Mr. Diddler as the keeper of the restaurant had called him, had been at the place since he left. He had not been there; and the cashier smiled when he told him so. The poor boy could not see why everybody, even the policeman, was disposed to laugh at him. He felt bad enough, without having folks make fun of him. It was no laughing matter. The man in the restaurant had told him to take a horse-car at the Astor House, which would carry him to the Fifth Avenue Hotel. He easily found the horse-cars; but he did not feel able to invest five cents in a ride, and he decided to walk, using the cars as his guide.