Chapter XIII: A Visit to Mr. Annister

Roy turned and looked at the boy who had made the somewhat insulting remark.

"I beg your pardon, stranger," he replied in his western drawl. "I didn't quite catch your remark."

"Aw, come off!" slangily replied the brass-buttoned boy, one of many in the hotel employed to show guests to their rooms whenever summoned by a bell rung by the clerk. "What are you, anyhow? Selling patent medicine or some Indian cure?" For Roy plainly showed the effect of his western life, his hair being a little longer than it is worn in the east, his clothes rather too large for him, and his broad-brimmed hat quite conspicuous.

"So you think I'm rustling medicine, eh?" he asked the boy.

"I don't know what you're 'rustling' but I know if you try to sell anything in this joint, you'll get the poke, see!"

Roy began to think the language of the East was almost as effective as that of the West in expressing ideas.

"I'm not selling medicine, stranger," Roy went on, using the term he had picked up among the cowboys when they meet one whom they do not know. "I'm going to put up at this bunk-house, I reckon."

"That's a good one!" exclaimed the boy with a laugh. "What Wild West show are you from? This is no theatrical boarding house. Better beat it out of here before the clerk sees you."

But the talk between the two boys had been overheard by the clerk, who, in a hotel, holds authority next to the owner.

"What's the trouble there, Number twenty-six?" he asked, addressing the bell boy.

"Aw, here's a guy what t'inks he's goin' to stay here an' sell patent medicines," replied the boy.

"What's that? Of course we don't allow any peddling schemes in the hotel. Send him out."

"I did, but he won't go."

"Your boy is mistaken, stranger," replied Roy, walking up to the desk, and looking around for Mortimer De Royster, who, it seemed, had been delayed in speaking to a friend. Several men in the hotel lobby drew near and listened with interest to what was going on. "I came here to put up at this hotel," went on Roy. "I was sent here by a friend of mine."

"We don't take theatrical people," said the clerk, stiffly.

"I'm not from a theatre. I tell you my friend sent me here. He'll be here himself in a minute."

The clerk did not look very much impressed, and Roy feared he was going to order him out of the hotel. The boy did not want to be thus publicly put to shame.

"Who's your friend?" asked the clerk.

"Mr. Mortimer De Royster."

"Oh, that's all right!" exclaimed the clerk with a great change of manner. "Any friend of Mr. De Royster is welcome. Boy, take the gentleman's grip. What sort of a room would you like?"

The bell boy, who had thought to put Roy out of the place, was obliged much against his will to take his valise.

"That's all right," said Roy good-naturedly to the boy. "I can carry my baggage. It isn't heavy. I don't know that I'm going to stop here after all. I think--"

Just then De Royster came pushing his way through the little crowd about the desk.

"Hello, Charlie!" he exclaimed, addressing the clerk. "How are you, old chap? Looking fine, upon my word!"

"Good afternoon, Mr. De Royster," replied the clerk cordially, extending his hand. "Glad to see you. So you're back from your trip?"

"Yes, but I came pretty near not coming. Might not be alive if it wasn't for my friend, Mr. Bradner, here. By the way, I want you to give him the best in the house. He's a great friend of mine. Treat him well."

"Of course we shall. We were just going to give him a good room--er--ahem, Mr. Bradner, will you please register?" and he swung the book around on the desk, dipping a pen in an ink bottle at the same time.

Roy hesitated, and smiled just a little. He was contrasting the treatment he might have received if Mr. De Royster had not been there.

"What's the matter?" asked the jewelry salesman, seeing that something unusual had taken place.

"Oh, nothing much," replied Roy. "They took me for a member of a Wild West show, I guess, and they were a little doubtful whether they'd let me bunk here or not."

"Ahem! All a mistake! It was the bell boy's fault," said the clerk, somewhat embarrassed.

"Here, Number twenty-six, take the gentleman's grip. Any friend of yours, Mr. De Royster, is doubly welcome here. We can give you a fine room, Mr. Bradner."

"All right," replied Roy, good naturedly. "I'll take one."

"I'll select it for you," put in Mr. De Royster, as he was in some doubt as to Roy's finances, and he did not want to take too extravagant an apartment.

Roy was soon shown to a pleasant room, Mortimer accompanying him. Every one connected with the hotel seemed anxious to aid the boy from the ranch, now that it was shown he had wealthy friends. Roy thought De Royster must be a person of some influence. He was partly right, though the influence came more from the rich and respected relatives of the young jewelry salesman, than from himself. However, it answered the same purpose.

"I am sorry you were annoyed by that clerk, my dear chap," said De Royster, when he was seated in the room he had selected for Roy. "I was unavoidably detained, speaking to a friend I met, don't you know."

"It's all right," replied Roy. "It all adds to my experience, and I expect to get a lot of it while I'm in the East."

"What are your next plans?"

"Well, I hardly know. I have certain business to do for my father, but I hardly know how to set about it."

"Perhaps I can tell you."

"I wish you could."

"If it is a secret don't tell me," said De Royster, noting that Roy hesitated.

"It is a sort of a secret mission. I'm here to round up a man, and see what sort of branding marks he has on him--that is, whether he's honest or not."

"That is a queer mission for a boy like you to be sent on."

"Perhaps, but my father had no one else. I will tell you as much as I can, and see what you have to say."

Thereupon Roy told his friend about the real estate matter, and Mr. Annister's connection with it, though he mentioned no names.

"Let me consider it a bit," said the dude, when Roy had finished. The latter began to think his friend was more capable than had at first appeared, and, in spite of his rather affected talk, could be relied upon for good advice.

"Here is what I would do, in your place," said De Royster, at length. "I would get my hair cut, order a new suit of clothes or perhaps two and appear as much as possible like a New Yorker, don't you know. You say you don't want that man to know you are here from the ranch. Well, he certainly would if you appeared before him as you are now. But, if you--er--well, we'll say 'spruce up' a bit, you can be sure he'll never connect you with the West. Then you can make whatever inquiries you like."

"That's good advice. I'll follow it. I'm much obliged to you."

"Don't mention it, my dear chap. Now, old man"--(Roy thought it was strange to be addressed as "old man")--"I've got to go. I'll leave you my card, and address, and, if you get into trouble, why, telephone or call on me. Now, good luck."

He shook hands with Roy and left. The boy from the ranch was a little lonesome after De Royster had gone, but he knew he would from now on, very probably have to rely on himself, and he decided to start in at once.

After supper he went to the hotel barber shop, and had his hair cut to the length it was worn by New Yorkers. He wanted to go out and get a new suit, but he knew the clothing stores would not be open at night.

His trunk arrived the next morning, and, having arranged his things in his room, the boy from the ranch set out to buy some new garments, following De Royster's advice.

"Well, I certainly don't look like a cowboy now," thought Roy, as he surveyed himself in the glass, after the change. "Now to call on Mr. Annister. I don't believe he'll suspect me of being on his trail."

A little later Roy was on his way down-town, having inquired from the clerk how to get to the office of the real estate agent. He was soon at the place, a big office building, in which several firms had their quarters.

He got in the express elevator, which went up at a speed that took away his breath, and was let out at the twentieth floor, where the real estate agent had his rooms.

"Is Mr. Annister in?" Roy asked the office boy.

"I don't know. What's your business?"

"My business is with Mr. Annister."

"What's your name?"

"That doesn't matter. Tell Mr. Annister I called to see him regarding the renting of some property on Bleecker street," for that was where the building was located in which Roy and his father were interested.

"All right. I'll tell him, but I don't believe he'll see you," replied the office boy, not very good-naturedly, as he went into an inner room. In a little while he returned and said:

"Walk in. He'll see you a few minutes, but he's very busy."

A few seconds later Roy stood in the presence of Caleb Annister.