to slip out without the drink, having no
money to pay for it. But, unfortunately for the success of his plans,
the keeper at the saloon had been taken in two or three times already
that day by similar impostors. Still, had James Martin been
well-dressed, he could have helped himself unquestioned to the
provisions he desired. But his appearance was suspicious. His ragged and
dirty attire betokened extreme poverty, and the man in charge saw, at a
glance, that his patronage was not likely to be desirable.

"Look here, my friend," he said, abruptly, as Martin was about to help
himself, "what'll you take to drink?"

"A glass of ale," said Martin, hesitatingly.

"All right! Pass over the money."

"The fact is," said Martin, "I left my pocket-book at home this morning,
and that's why I'm obliged to come in here."

"Very good! Then you needn't trouble yourself to take anything. We don't
care about visitors that leave their pocket-books at home."

"I'll pay you double to-morrow," said Martin, who had no hesitation in
making promises he hadn't the least intention of fulfilling.

"That won't go down," said the other. "I don't care about seeing such
fellows as you at any time. There's the door."

"Do you want to fight?" demanded Martin, angrily.

"No, I don't; but I may kick you out if you don't go peaceably. We
don't want customers of your sort."

"I'll smash your head!" said Martin, becoming pugnacious.

"Here, Mike, run up and see if you can't find a policeman."

This hint was not lost upon Martin. He had no great love for the
Metropolitan police, and kept out of their way as much as possible. He
felt that it would be prudent to evacuate the premises, and did so,
muttering threats meanwhile, and not without a lingering glance at the
lunch which was not free to him.

This last failure rather disgusted Martin. According to his theory, the
world owed him a living; but it seemed as if the world were disposed to
repudiate the debt. Fasting is apt to lead to serious reflection, and by
this time he was decidedly hungry. How to provide himself with a dinner
was a subject that required immediate attention.

He walked about for an hour or two without finding himself at the end of
that time any nearer the solution of the question than before. To work
all day may be hard; but to do nothing all day on an empty stomach is
still harder.

About four o'clock, Martin found himself at the junction of Wall Street
and Nassau. I ha