go? and how could he manage to pass away the time that might elapse till
his brother should miss him and return in search of him? And now the
officer came up, and began to question him, speaking very slowly, and in
an extremely loud tone. Notwithstanding, poor Will could only understand
a word here and there, and at length, in despair, he determined to try a
new plan.

Taking out his purse, he showed the money therein to the gendarme, at
the same time exclaiming, "Hotel! hotel!" and pointing to himself. The
officer evidently comprehended this pantomime, for, with a nod to the
ticket agent, who had all the while been grinning through his little
wicket, he motioned for Will to follow him out into the street.

The Hotel du Chemin de Fer (Railroad Hotel) was close at hand, and
having in a few rapid sentences explained the situation to the landlord,
the gendarme left Will to his own resources.

The latter thought for a moment that he had stepped into pandemonium
itself, for opening on the right into the main hall of the hotel was a
large apartment decorated with a sort of stage scenery to represent
trees and lakes, the room itself being filled with little tables, around
which were seated men smoking and drinking beer, while a thin-toned
brass band discoursed popular music from a gallery overhead.

Will stared at this strange sight with all his eyes, and then suddenly
became conscious at one and the same moment that he was hungry and being
talked at by the proprietor. Encouraged by his former success with
one-word speeches, Will simply said "Coffee," and then sat down at one
of the little tables, where he was speedily served with a generous cup
of the invigorating beverage, together with a plentiful supply of bread
and butter.

"What a queer adventure!" thought the youth, his spirits much improved
by the warm draughts of coffee, to say nothing of the lights and music.
"But now how shall I ever be able to make the man understand that I want
to stay here all night? Charlie's sure to come back for me in the
morning. Oh, I have it! I'll register my name on a piece of paper, hand
it to the landlord, and exhibit my purse again;" which plan succeeded
admirably, and "William C. Brooks, New York, America," was immediately
shown to a good-sized room on the second floor, where he lost no time in
retiring to rest after his eventful evening.

His sleep, however, was not undisturbed, for all night long he imagined
himself to be an Am