"Go in there a minute," said Robinson, "while I speak to my friend."
Andy went in, and picked up a copy of the _Clipper_ from the table--the only paper in the room.
In five minutes the two returned.
"I'll take your gripsack," said the man in shirt sleeves. "I will show you to your room."
They went up two flights of stairs to a room on the third floor. It was a small apartment about ten feet square, with a double bed in one corner.
"I guess you'll both be comfortable here," said the landlord.
"I think I would rather have a room to myself," said Andy, by no means satisfied.
"Sorry we can't accommodate you, but the house is full."
It didn't look so, but then the lodgers might be out.
Andy thought for a moment he would go downstairs, and take a car back to the central part of the city, but he was afraid his action would seem strange, and he made no objection.
"I guess we'll get along together," said Robinson, in an easy tone.
Andy didn't think so, but he found it awkward to make objections.
"I will take a wash," he said, seeing that the pitcher on the washstand contained water.
"All right!" returned Robinson. "Just make yourself at home. I'll go downstairs. You'll find me there."
Left alone, Andy reproached himself for his too ready yielding to the plans of his companion. He wondered why he had done so.
"Mr. Crawford didn't ask me to be economical," he reflected. "He is willing I should pay ordinary prices at a hotel. I think I have been very foolish. However, I am in for it. It will serve as a lesson to me, which I will remember hereafter."
He looked out of the window. There was a lot behind the hotel--if it was a hotel--covered with ashes, tin cans, and other litter.
"I am sure," thought Andy, "this isn't the kind of hotel Mr. Crawford wished me to stay at."
When he had washed he went downstairs. As he passed the door of the barroom he saw Mr. Robinson inside, sitting at the table, with a bottle and a glass before him.
"Come in, Grant, and have some whisky," he said.
"Thank you, but I don't care for whisky."
"Perhaps you would prefer beer?"
"I don't care to drink anything, thank you."
"You don't mean to say you're a temperance crank?"
"Yes, I think I am."
"Oh, well, do just as you please. By the way, it is the rule here to pay for board in advance."
"How much is it?"
"A dollar and a quarter, please," said this red-haired man, who stood behind the bar.
Andy paid over the money.
"I thought perhaps you would stay more than one day."
"No, I have little time. I shall have to leave to-morrow. I think, Mr.
Robinson, I will go out and take a walk."
"All right! Supper will be ready in two hours."
Andy nodded.
He had a great mind to go upstairs and get his gripsack. Then he would be able to go where he pleased. He went out and began to walk about in the neighborhood of the hotel.
It did not seem to be a very pleasant quarter of the city, and it was certainly a good distance from the center.
"I sha'n't learn much about Chicago if I stay here," he thought.
Again he execrated his folly in so weakly yielding to the representations of a man he knew nothing about.
He walked for half an hour and then returned slowly. There didn't seem to be much to look at, and his walk had no interest for him.
Not far from the hotel he met a well-dressed boy, and was impelled to speak to him.
"Do you live near by?" he asked.
"No, but I have an uncle living in that house over there. I came to spend the day with my cousins."
"I am a stranger in this city. I met a man who took me to that brick house. He recommended it as a cheap boarding place. Do you know anything about it?"
"I know that it has a bad reputation."
"Will you tell me what you know about it? You will be doing me a favor."
"The bar does a good business in the evening. I have heard of several cases where men who put up there complained of being robbed."
"Thank you. I am not much surprised to hear it."
"Have you taken a room there?"
"Yes. I am afraid I was foolish."
"I hope you won't be robbed--that's all."