I
must keep it to pay my expenses to Colorado,
if he should send for me in a few weeks."
The young man had noticed with some
curiosity the rather oddly-shaped bundle which
Stark carried under his arm, but could not
see his way clear to asking any questions about
it. It seemed queer that Stark should have
it with him while walking. Come to think of
it, he remembered seeing him go out in the
early evening, and he was quite confident that
at that time he had no bundle with him. However,
he was influenced only by a spirit of idle
curiosity. He had no idea that the bundle was
of any importance or value. The next day
he changed his opinion on that subject.
Phil Stark went up to his chamber, and
setting the lamp on the bureau, first carefully
locked the door, and then removed the paper
from the tin box. He eyed it lovingly, and
tried one by one the keys he had in his pocket,
but none exactly fitted.
As he was experimenting he thought with a smile
of the night clerk from whom he had just parted.
"Stark," he soliloquized, addressing himself,
"you are an old humbug. You have cleverly
duped that unsophisticated young man downstairs.
He looks upon you as a man of unbounded
wealth, evidently, while, as a matter
of fact, you are almost strapped. Let me
see how much I have got left."
He took out his wallet, and counted out
seven dollars and thirty-eight cents.
"That can hardly be said to constitute
wealth," he reflected, "but it is all I have over
and above the contents of this box.
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