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.
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