e), told an anecdote which made the
young man laugh, and flattered him to the best of my ability, by asking
his opinion about an American political crisis of the day. Then, by
gradual steps, I led the talk toward the great West in general, Colorado
silver mines in particular, and so at last reached the subject of Harvey
Farnham, one of the most prominent of the financiers of that State.

"I was much disappointed, I confess, at not finding him here," I
remarked, "and shall on his account cut short my visit to New York.
Farnham and I have known each other for some years; and, by the way, I
remember his saying that in his opinion this was the best-managed hotel
in New York. I believe he usually stops here when in town, doesn't he?"

"So it seems, sir," answered the clerk, very civilly now, having decided
to be patient with my humour. "However, I had never seen him until he
turned up the other day. I haven't been in my present position very
long."

"I suppose you did see him though?" I persevered. "How was he looking
after his accident--seedy at all?"

"He was very _thin_, if you mean that," laughed my informant. "He
limped about with a crutch, too, and as he had bumped his forehead in
the same fall which sprained his ankle, he wore a green shade that
covered his temples and his eyes." I grew attentive at this. It appeared
to me that here was a point in my favour.

"I should like to have a talk with one of his old friends in the hotel,"
I said; "the manager, for instance. No doubt he knows Mr. Farnham very
well."

"He does, but he's out of town on business for a day or two. I think
you'll find, though, that our bartender and Mr. Farnham were about as
chummy together as anyone in the house."

Apparently at my leisure, really with great impatience, I repaired to
the extremely handsome "barroom" of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and here the
oracle was very communicative.

Having mixed me a peculiarly American drink called "gin fizz," the
bartender was willing to chat of Mr. Farnham.

"I guess he must have been pretty bad this last time," he said, in
response to my first question, "for he didn't trouble the barroom much."

"He did come in, however, did he not?" I asked anxiously.

"Oh, yes, he came in once or twice, but I thought he acted rather grumpy
and queer."

"Did you have a good look at him either time?" I pressed on, with
eagerness.

"Pretty good. Almost as close as you are now, I guess."

"And did he appear