Luke Walton. Horatio Alger Jr.
to open an office in Chicago?" he asked.
"No; the service is of a different nature. It is – secret and confidential. It is, I may say, something in the detective line."
"Then I'm your man," said his nephew, brightening up.
"The service is simple, so that you will probably be qualified to do what I require."
"I've read lots of detective stories," said Stephen, eagerly. "It's just the work I should like."
"Humph! I don't think much is to be learned from detective stories. You will understand, of course, that you are not to let anyone know you are acting for me."
"Certainly. You will find that I can keep a secret."
"I leave Chicago to-morrow morning, and will give you directions before I go. Where can we have a private conference?"
"Here is an oyster house. We shall be quiet here."
"Very well! We will go in."
They entered a small room, with a sanded floor, provided with a few unpainted tables.
Stephen and his uncle went to the back of the room, and seated themselves at the rear table.
"We must order something," suggested Stephen.
"Get what you please," said Browning, indifferently.
"Two stews!" ordered Stephen. "We can talk while they are getting them ready."
"Very well! Now, for my instructions. At the corner of Clark and Randolph Streets every morning and evening you will find a newsboy selling papers."
"A dozen, you mean."
"True, but I am going to describe this boy so that you may know him. He is about fifteen, I should judge, neatly dressed, and would be considered good-looking."
"Do you know his name?"
"Yes, it is Luke Walton."
"Is he the one I am to watch?"
"You are to make his acquaintance, and find out all you can about his circumstances."
"Do you know where he lives?"
"No; that is one of the things you are to find out for me."
"What else do you want me to find out?"
"Find out how many there are in family, also how they live; whether they have anything to live on except what this newsboy earns."
"All right, Uncle Thomas. You seem to have a great deal of interest in this boy."
"That is my business," said Browning, curtly. "If you wish to work for me, you must not show too much curiosity. Never mind what my motives are. Do you understand?"
"Certainly, Uncle Thomas. It shall be as you say. I suppose I am to be paid?"
"Yes. How much salary did you receive where you were last employed?"
"Ten dollars a week."
"You shall receive this sum for the present. It is very good pay for the small service required of you."
"All right, uncle."
The stews were ready by this time. They were brought and set before Stephen and his uncle. The latter toyed with his spoon, only taking a taste or two, but Stephen showed much more appreciation of the dish, not being accustomed, like his uncle, to dining at first-class hotels.
"How am I to let you know what I find out?" asked Stephen.
"Write me at Milwaukee. I will send you further instructions from there."
"Very well, sir."
"Oh, by the way, you are never to mention me to this Luke Walton. I have my reasons."
"I will do just as you say."
"How is your mother, Stephen?"
"About the same. She isn't a very cheerful party, you know. She is always fretting."
"Has she any lodgers?"
"Yes, three, but one is a little irregular with his rent."
"Of course, I expect that you will hand your mother half the weekly sum I pay you. She has a right to expect that much help from her son."
Stephen assented, but not with alacrity, and as he had now disposed of the stew, the two rose from their seats and went outside. A few words of final instructions, and they parted.
"I wonder why Uncle Thomas takes such an interest in that newsboy," thought Stephen. "I will make it my business to find out."
CHAPTER X
STEPHEN WEBB OBTAINS SOME INFORMATION
Luke was at his post the following morning, and had disposed of half his papers when Stephen Webb strolled by. He walked past Luke, and then, as if it was an after thought, turned back, and addressed him.
"Have you a morning Tribune?" he asked.
Luke produced it.
"How's business to-day?" asked Stephen in an offhand manner.
"Pretty fair," answered Luke, for the first time taking notice of the inquirer, who did not impress him very favorably.
"I have often wondered how you newsboys make it pay," said Stephen, in a sociable tone.
"We don't make our fortunes, as a rule," answered Luke, smiling, "so I can't recommend you to go into it."
"I don't think it would suit me. I don't mind owning up that I am lazy. But, then, I am not obliged to work for the present, at least."
"I should like to be able to live without work," said the newsboy. "But even then I would find something to do. I should not be happy if I were idle."
"I am not wholly without work," said Stephen. "My uncle, who lives at a distance, occasionally sends to me to do something for him. I have to hold myself subject to his orders. In the meantime I get an income from him. How long have you been a newsboy?"
"Nearly two years."
"Do you like it? Why don't you get a place in a store or an office?"
"I should like to, if I could make enough; but boys get very small salaries."
"I was about to offer to look for a place for you. I know some men in business."
"Thank you! You are very kind, considering that we are strangers."
"Oh, well, I can judge of you by your looks. I shouldn't be afraid to recommend you."
"Thank you!" he replied; "but unless you can offer me as much as five dollars a week, I should feel obliged to keep on selling papers. I not only have myself to look out for, but a mother and little brother."
Stephen nodded to himself complacently. It was the very information of which he was in search.
"Then your father isn't living?" he said.
"No. He died in California."
"Uncle Thomas made his money in California," Stephen said to himself. "I wonder if he knew this newsboy's father."
"Five dollars is little enough for three persons to live upon," he went on, in a sympathetic manner.
"Mother earns something by sewing," Luke answered, unsuspiciously; "but it takes all we can make to support us."
"Then they can't have any other resources," thought Stephen. "I am getting on famously."
"Well, good-morning, Luke!" he said. "I'll see you later."
"How do you know my name?" asked Luke, in surprise.
"I'm an idiot!" thought Stephen. "I ought to have appeared ignorant of his name. I have seen you before to-day," he replied, taking a little time to think. "I heard one of the other newsboys calling you by name. I don't pretend to be a magician."
This explanation satisfied Luke. It appeared very natural.
"I have a great memory for names," proceeded Stephen. "That reminds me that I have not told you mine – I am Stephen Webb, at your service."
"I will