tic representation, and he thoroughly enjoyed it. Fairfax was
more accustomed to such things, but pretended to be equally
interested, feeling that in this way he could ingratiate himself
better into Andy's confidence.

At last it was over, and they went out of the building.

"How did you like it?" asked Fairfax.

"Tiptop," said Andy, promptly. "Don't you think so?"

"Capital," answered Fairfax, with simulated delight. "I am glad I had
company. I don't enjoy anything half as well alone. By the way, where
do you pass the night?"

"At some hotel--I don't know which."

"Suppose you go to the Adams House. I've got to stop overnight
somewhere, and it might be pleasanter going in company."

"Where is the Adams House?"

"On Washington Street, not very far off--ten or fifteen minutes'
walk."

"If it's a good place, I'm willing."

"It is an excellent hotel, and moderate in price. We might go up there
now, and engage a room, and then spend the evening where we like."

"Very well," said Andy.

They soon reached the Adams House--a neat, unpretending hotel--and
entered. They walked up to the desk, and Fairfax spoke to the clerk.

"Can you give us a room?"

"Certainly. Enter your names."

"Shall we room together?" asked Fairfax, calmly.

Now Andy, though he had had no objection to going to the theater with
his present companion, did not care to take a room with a stranger, of
whom he knew nothing. He might be a very respectable man, but somehow,
Andy did not know why, there was something in his manner which
inspired a little repulsion. Besides, he remembered that he had
considerable money with him, and that consideration alone rendered it
imprudent for him to put himself in the power of a companion. So he
said, a little awkwardly:

"I think we'd better take separate rooms."

"Very well," said Fairfax, in a tone of indifference, though he really
felt very much disappointed. "I thought it might have been a little
more sociable to be together."

Andy did not take the hint, except so far as to say:

"We can take rooms alongside of each other."

"I can give you adjoining rooms, if you desire," said the clerk.

Fairfax here entered his name in the hotel register as "Nathaniel
Marvin, Portland, Maine," while Andy put down his real address. His
companion's was, of course, fictitious. He did not venture to give the
name of Fairfax, as that might be recognized by Andy as that of the
highwayman, with whose little pla