ew boarder that day, a tall, slim man,
possibly thirty years of age. He was introduced as Mr. Wakefield Smith,
and he did all he could to make himself popular. Jerry felt that a good
bit of his pleasantry was forced, but as there was no use in finding
fault, he became quite friendly with the man.

"Supposing we take a walk out together this evening?" Wakefield Smith
suggested. "No doubt you would like to see the sights."

"I'll go out for an hour or so," answered the young oarsman, and they
started while it was yet light.

Mr. Wakefield Smith knew the metropolis from end to end, and as the pair
covered block after block, he pointed out various buildings. He smoked
constantly, and several times invited Jerry to have a cigar, but the youth
declined.

"Supposing we have a drink, then?" he urged.

Again Jerry declined, which made the man frown. He insisted Jerry should
at least have some soda water with him, and at last the boy accepted, and
they entered rather a modest looking drug store on a side street.

"Hullo! what's that crowd on the street?" exclaimed Mr. Wakefield Smith,
as the glasses were set out, and as Jerry looked out of the doorway he
fancied the man shoved up close to where his glass was standing and made a
movement as if to throw something into it.

Jerry saw nothing unusual in the street, and the man's manner made him
suspicious, so that he hesitated about drinking the soda. He swallowed a
small portion of it and threw the remainder in a corner.

"What's the matter, don't you like it?" demanded Wakefield Smith, almost
roughly.

"No, it's bitter."

"Humph!" He growled something under his breath. "I'll not treat you
again," he went on, as they came out on the street.

What Jerry had taken of the soda had made his head ache, and this caused
the young oarsman to grow more suspicious than ever. He had read in a
daily paper about folks being drugged by friendly strangers, and resolved
to be on guard.

The pair passed on the distance of a block, and then Jerry announced his
intention of returning home to the boarding-house.

"Oh, don't go yet," urged Mr. Wakefield Smith. "Come on across the way.
There are some beautiful pictures in an art store window I want to show
you. One of the pictures is worth ten thousand dollars."

He caught our hero by the arm and hurried him over the way and into the
crowd. Jerry was jostled to the right and left, and it was fully a minute
before he squeezed himself out