"
"That isn't it. I am always careful, as careful
as any man."
"Still you got robbed."
"Yes, but of a bank book."
Here Carl became attentive. It was clear that
he would not have to look any farther for the
owner of the book he had found in his stateroom.
"What kind of a bank book?" inquired Mr. Norris.
"I had nearly a thousand dollars deposited
in the Sixpenny Savings Bank. I called at
the bank to make some inquiries about interest,
and when I came out I presume some rascal
followed me and stole the book----"
"Have you any idea who took it?"
"I got into the horse cars, near the bank;
next to me sat a young man in a light overcoat.
There was no one on the other side of me.
I think he must have taken it."
"That was Stuyvesant," said Carl to himself.
"When did this happen, Aunt Rachel?"
"Three days since."
"Why didn't you do something about it before?"
"I did. I advertised a reward of twenty-five dollars
to anyone who would restore it to me."
"There was no occasion for that. By giving
notice at the bank, they would give you
a new book after a time."
"I preferred to recover the old one. Besides,
I thought I would like to know what became of it."
"I can tell you, Miss Norris," said Carl,
who thought it time to speak.
Hitherto Miss Norris had not seemed aware
of Carl's presence. She turned abruptly and
surveyed him through her glasses.
"Who are you?" she asked.
This might seem rude, but it was only Miss Rachel's way.
"My name is Carl Crawford.
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