Mr. Minton," said Mark, "I advise you not to come here again, or I may have to call in a policeman."
"I've a great mind to throw you down-stairs," growled Jack.
"You'd have to throw me too!" put in Tom Trotter.
"I'd do it with pleasure."
Jack left the room and steered his way to the nearest saloon, while Mark and Tom returned to the room beneath.
CHAPTER IX
AN ADVENTURE IN A FIFTH AVENUE STAGE
Mark did not fail to call at Mr. Rockwell's office during the following week.
Nichols, the clerk, who had already shown a friendly interest in him, received him kindly.
"Mr. Rockwell is still confined at his house," he said. "The affair of last week was a great shock to him, and, not being a strong man, he is quite prostrated."
"I am sorry to hear it," said Mark in a tone of sympathy, "but I am not surprised. That is what I read in the papers. Still, as I was asked to call at the office, I have done so."
"I am glad to see you. I hope you are getting along well."
"Oh yes, fairly well."
"How do you like being a telegraph messenger?"
"It will do very well for a boy, but it leads to nothing. I wish I could get into some position where I would be promoted."
"That will come after a while, if you show yourself faithful and reliable."
The next day Mark had a surprise. Walking past the Metropolitan Hotel, not far from Houston Street, he saw a boy just leaving the hotel whose face and figure were familiar.
"Edgar Talbot!" he exclaimed in surprise.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Edgar, turning at the call.
"Yes; how do you happen to visit New York again so soon?"
"We are going to move to New York," answered Edgar. "Father feels that Syracuse is too small a place for a man of his business ability," he added in a consequential tone.
"Are you going to live at the hotel?"
"No. We shall live in a nice flat up town, near the Park."
This was news indeed. Mark felt no interest in any of the family except in Mrs. Talbot, his mother's sister, who alone of all displayed a friendly regard for her poor relatives.
"Mother will be glad to hear of it," he said.
"Why?"
"Because your mother is her only sister, and she will like to call on her."
"Look here!" said Edgar. "I hope you don't expect to be on visiting terms at our house."
"Why not? You are my own cousin, aren't you?"
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Edgar, making the admission grudgingly, "but of course there is a great difference in our social positions."
"You mean that you are rich and we are poor?"
"Yes, that's about the size of it."
"I don't care a particle about seeing you, but my mother will be glad to see her sister."
"Oh, well! Mother can call at your – tenement house, now and then, but it would be better that none of you should call on us."
"Why?"
"Because we wouldn't like to let the servants know that we have such poor relations."
"Do you say this on your own account, or did your father tell you this?" said Mark indignantly.
"I know that is the way he feels."
"I don't believe Aunt Mary feels so."
Just then a boy approached whom Edgar seemed to know.
"Good morning," he said hurriedly. "I have an engagement."
Mark felt that he was dismissed, and kept on his way. He hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry that his uncle's family was coming to New York. He did not care for Edgar's companionship, nor did he expect to get any of it, but he knew that his mother would like to meet her sister occasionally.
About the middle of the afternoon he found himself riding in a Fifth Avenue stage. The stage was tolerably full. Directly opposite Mark sat an old lady richly dressed, whose means were evidently large. Next to her sat a flashily dressed young man, on whose bosom glittered what might be a valuable diamond stud, conspicuous for its size. He had a diamond ring on his finger, and might easily be mistaken for a banker's son.
All at once Mark noticed some suspicious movements which led him to think that the young man might be quite different from what he appeared. A moment later he saw the young man's hand dive into the old lady's side pocket. Directly afterwards he rose and pulled the strap for the stage to stop. Mark realized that a robbery had taken place. He rose and placed himself between the young man and the door.
"Madam," he said to the old lady, "I think you have been robbed. Feel in your pockets and see."
The old lady, startled, followed Mark's advice.
"My pocketbook is gone!" she said nervously.
"Out of the way, boy!" cried the young man. "I have to get out here."
"Not yet," answered Mark firmly. "Give back the lady's pocketbook."
"Why, you insolent young rascal! What do you mean?"
"I mean just what I say."
"You have insulted me, and I will horsewhip you!" exclaimed the rogue in assumed virtuous indignation.
He seized Mark by the shoulder and was about to thrust him forcibly aside, when a stout, thick-set man rose and ranged himself by Mark's side.
"Young man," he said, "give back the pocketbook as the boy tells you."
"I have no pocketbook."
As he spoke he dexterously dropped it to the floor of the stage.
"Here's your pocketbook, ma'am," said a nurse girl, picking it up.
"Thank you!" responded the old lady, relieved.
"What did I tell you?" exclaimed the dude triumphantly. "Boy, you're too fresh! I am a young man of high family. It is most ridiculous to charge me with stealing."
"I saw you with your hand in the lady's pocket," said Mark calmly.
"It's a lie! But I ought not to be surprised. I know you now. You were sent to the Island last summer for stealing. I remember seeing you on trial at Jefferson Market police court."
Suspicious glances were directed at Mark, for most people are inclined to believe evil of their neighbors – but the stout man only laughed.
"That is too thin, my friend!" he said. "Of course your motive in bringing
