His eyes danced with exultation, as he saw this.

“I might as well be in the same room,” he said, to himself.  “Now, you young rascal, I shall take your money, and be revenged upon you at the same time.”

He carefully locked the door, and then, feeling that he had done all that was necessary to do at present, went downstairs, and took supper.  Andy was out, and did not see him.

Meanwhile, our young hero was out seeing the sights.  He walked up Washington Street, and at Boylston Street turned and reached Tremont Street, when he saw the Common before him.  It looked pleasant, and Andy crossed the street, and entered.  He walked wherever fancy led, and then found himself, after a while, in a comparatively secluded part.  Here he met with an adventure, which I must describe.

Rather a shabby-looking individual in front of him suddenly stooped and picked up a pocketbook, which appeared to be well filled with money.  He looked up, and met Andy’s eyes fixed upon it.  This was what he wanted.

“Here’s a pocketbook,” he said.  “Somebody must have dropped it.”

Andy was interested.

“It seems to have considerable money in it,” said the finder.

“Open it, and see,” said Andy.

“I hain’t time.  I have got to leave the city by the next train.  I mean, I haven’t time to advertise it, and get the reward which the owner will be sure to offer.  Are you going to stay in the city long?”

“I’m going out to-morrow.”

“I must go.  I wish I knew what to do.”

He seemed to be plunged into anxious thought.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said, as if a bright idea had suddenly struck him.  “You take the pocketbook, and advertise it.  If the owner is found, he will give you a reward.  If not, the whole will belong to you.”

“All right,” said Andy.  “Hand it over.”

“Of course,” said the other, “I shall expect something myself, as I was the one to find it.”

“I’ll give you half.”

“But I shall be out of the city.  I’ll tell you what give me ten dollars, and I’ll make it over to you.”

“That’s rather steep,” said Andy.

“Heft it.  There must be a lot of money inside.”

“I’m afraid the reward might be less than ten dollars,” said Andy.

“Well, I’m in a great hurry—­give me five.”

It is possible that Andy, who was not acquainted with the “drop game,” might have agreed to this, but a policeman hove in sight, and the shabby individual scuttled away without further ceremony, leaving Andy a little surprised, with the pocketbook in his hand.

“What’s he in such a hurry for?” thought our hero.

He opened the pocketbook, and a light flashed upon him, as he perceived that there was no money inside, but was stuffed with rolls of paper.

“He wanted to swindle me,” thought Andy.  “It’s lucky I didn’t pay him five dollars.  Anyway, I’ll keep it.  The pocketbook is worth something.”