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Updated: May 15, 2025
In a few minutes they were down on the Bowery, and passing Park Row, the only lively spot in lower New York on Sunday, they crossed Fulton Street and so on down to West. As Richard had anticipated, the Watch Below was closed. Doc Linyard did not keep his place open on Sunday, excepting for an hour or two early in the morning. "I'll have to see if I can knock him up," he said to Pep.
The clerk examined it. Then he wrote in the number of a box, and put down several private marks in the corner. "Pay at the next desk," he said, handing the paper back. "How much will it be?" asked Linyard. "Ninety cents." At the next window the man in charge put the advertisement on file along with numerous others.
My dear Linyard, why didn't you tell me?" His voice sank to a reproachful solemnity, and he pushed forward his own arm-chair. The Professor dropped into it with a chuckle. "And miss the joy of letting you find out?" "Well it was a joy." Harviss held out a box of his best cigars. "I don't know when I've had a bigger sensation.
"I thought as how I was strangled sure. But Doc Linyard allers was a lucky tar. Thanky, messmates, thanky." He was a nautical-looking fellow of perhaps forty. He wore a blue pea- jacket and trousers, and under the rolling collar of his gray flannel shirt was tied a black bandanna in true sailor style.
The official took a piece of chalk and scratched the name upon the bottom of the valise. "That one is yours?" "Yes; here is my name on the bottom," and Richard showed it. "All right. You can go. If Mr. Joyce calls he can get his property, otherwise it will be forwarded to the main baggage office in New York." "Hold up! Not so fast," put in Doc Linyard. "Just give him a receipt for that valise."
"Not less than a thousand dollars perhaps twice that." "Phew! It's worth workin' for." "Yes, indeed!" put in Mrs. Linyard. "I hope you get it, Mr. Dare; you deserve it." When Richard returned to his boarding-place he met Frank Massanet at the door. He could see by his friend's face that he had not met with success. "I tried twenty-six places," reported Frank. "Every one had all the help needed.
"Newspaper Row," as Doc Linyard had appropriately called it, was just across the opposite street, and the boy made up his mind to visit the office where the advertisement had been left, and see if there were any letters as yet for the old sailor.
Martin's store and set up business on their own account. Doc Linyard and Tom Clover now run a prosperous hotel and restaurant in the lower part of the city, where their old friends are always welcome. Pep attends school regularly, and thoroughly appreciates his improved condition in life.
"Sit down," returned the boy. The seat in front was vacant, and in a trice the old sailor had it turned over and himself ensconced in the soft cushions, opposite Richard. "Might I ask where you're bound?" asked Doc Linyard, after another long string of thanks for the services that had been rendered. "I can't say any more than that I'm going to New York.
I may not be back," and without waiting for further words, Richard hurried off. Meanwhile Doc Linyard, all unconscious of what was transpiring, had gone on ahead, and when Richard looked around for him, the old sailor was nowhere to be seen. Rather startled, the boy hurried along to catch up.
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