“He is going to inquire the price of a ticket to some western city,” thought Herbert. “I heard him say one day that he wanted to go West.”

Our hero's curiosity was naturally aroused, and he stood at the entrance, where he could not only see but hear what passed within.

“What do you charge for a ticket to Chicago?” he heard Eben ask.

“Twenty-two dollars,” was the answer of the young man behind the counter.

“You may give me one,” said Eben.

As he spoke¹ he drew from his vest pocket a roll of bills, and began to count off the requisite² sum.

Herbert was surprised. He had supposed that Eben was merely making inquiries³ about the price of tickets. He had not imagined that he was really going.

“Can Mr. Graham have given him money to go?” he asked himself.

“When can I start?” asked Eben, as he received a string of tickets from the clerk.

“At three this afternoon.”

Eben seemed well pleased with this reply. He carefully deposited the tickets in an inside vest pocket, and turned to go out of the office. As he emerged from it he caught sight of Herbert, who had not yet started to go. He looked surprised and annoyed.

“Herbert Carr!” he exclaimed. “How came you here?”

Mingled⁴ with his surprise there was a certain nervousness of manner, as Herbert thought.

“I came to Boston with Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, coldly.

“Oh!” ejaculated Eben, with an air of perceptible relief. “Where is Mr. Melville?”

“He has gone to the office of his physician, on Tremont Street.”

“Leaving you to your own devices, eh?”

“Yes.”

“Look out you don't get lost!” said Eben, with affected⁵ gayety. “I am here on a little business for the old man.”

Herbert did not believe this, in view of what he had seen, but he did not think it necessary to say so.

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