When Bernard noticed the disappearance of the bureau he understood at once the alarming significance of the step which Professor Puffer had taken, for he felt sure that it was at his instigation that this article of furniture had been removed. It might have been carried into the professor’s own chamber through the connecting door, but this was of minor importance. Enough that he, Bernard, no longer had anything to serve as a barrier and prevent the unauthorized intrusion of his traveling companion into his room.

Bernard sat down on the bed and began to consider thoughtfully what he should do. Did the professor mean to do him harm? This was what he asked himself. Evidently he intended to come into the room. Bernard did not care to run the risk of his presence. He decided to sleep elsewhere.

He opened the door into the hall noiselessly, and proceeding to the room of the Boston drummer, he knocked.

The door was opened by Mr. Sturgis in person.

“Well?” he said inquiringly.

Bernard told him of the discovery he had made.

“I don’t dare to sleep in the room to-night,” he concluded, “for I am sure the professor would make me a visit.”

“You are no doubt right. The case seems very mysterious. I don’t see on what pretext he could have induced the landlord to remove the bureau. English people (and landlords are no exception) are very averse to changes, even of trifling character.”

“At any rate the change has been made,” said Bernard. “Perhaps he has not consulted the landlord at all, but simply removed the bureau into his own chamber.”

“Perhaps so, but we must take things as they are. It is clear that it won’t do to sleep in the room. I am glad to be able to offer you a bed. There are two in this room, as you see.”.

“Thank you, Mr. Sturgis. I will accept your kind offer.”

“Then, as it is late, we had better go to bed at once, so as to get a good night’s rest. I should like to see the face of the professor when he opens the door and finds that the bird has flown.”

Bernard laughed.

“I should like to see it myself,” he said.

We will now go back to Mr. Puffer.

He retired rather earlier than Bernard, and as he lay down he said to himself, with a peculiar smile, “The boy won’t be able to keep me out to-night He may think himself smart, but he is not smart enough to baffle the plans of Ezra Puffer.”

Professor Puffer had the faculty of sleeping for as short or long a time as he chose. He set himself for a two hours’ nap, and in five minutes he was sound asleep.

About twelve o’clock he awoke.

He was at first bewildered, but quickly recalled to mind what he had arranged to do.

He rose and lit the candle which stood upon a. small table in the center of the room. Then, in his stocking feet, he noiselessly approached the door.

He turned the key in the lock and opened the door leading into Bernard’s room raising the candle he drew near the bed and looked to see the recumbent figure of his young traveling companion. To his intense surprise the bed was unoccupied.

“What does it mean?” he asked himself in bewilderment. “Where can be the boy be?”

His expression of perplexity was fast succeeded by one of rage as he came to the conclusion that Bernard, on discovering the absence of the bureau, had deliberately resolved to abandon the room.

“He is the most impudent and audacious boy I ever met,” reflected the professor. “I don’t wonder Mr. McCracken calls him ‘a bad lot.’”

Of course there was nothing to do but return to his own chamber. But his exit was not to be a peaceful one. He had scarcely started for the door when there was a rushing sound, and a huge dog sprang forward and fastened his teeth in the professor’s leg. Such an attack under the circumstances would have startled even a brave man, and Professor Puffer was not a brave man.

In the indistinct light he could not at once distinguish the figure of his assailant and what it was that had attacked him. He had a suspicion that it was some contrivance of Bernard.

“Let go, or I will kill you!” he yelled.

But his threat produced no effect upon the huge, shaggy dog who had been lying under the bed, and had been aroused by the entrance of Professor Puffer, whom he evidently felt to be an unauthorized intruder and a suspicious character.

As the reader may be as much puzzled as was the professor himself, I will explain that when Bernard opened the door to leave his chamber, the dog, who had been walking through the entry, made his way into it without the notice of the boy. He had stretched himself out under the four poster, and was sleeping the sleep of a thoroughly tired dog when he was aroused by the stealthy entrance of the professor.

With a dog’s instinct he fastened his teeth in the unprotected calf of the intruder, and inflicted a wound decidedly painful.

When Professor Puffer, lowering the candle, saw his foe, he was frightened more, than ever.

“This is a trick of that rascally boy!” he concluded. “Get out, you brute!”

With this exclamation he drew his leg away from the dog’s grip, and gave him a vicious kick.

But the dog’s fighting spirit was aroused. He took a new hold, and growled in a manner that sent terror to the heart of the unhappy professor. Drops of perspiration came out upon his forehead, and his heart was sick with fear. He felt helpless in the powerful jaws of the dog.

“What shall I do? What can I do?” he moaned. “If I only had a revolver.”

The more he struggled, the more the dog felt that he had done right in attacking him.

The professor could stand it no longer. He gave utterance to a succession of piercing shrieks, which aroused the house. He did not succeed in terrifying the dog, however, who hung on with remorseless tenacity.

The cries of the professor roused the house. The guests poured out of their rooms, among them Nelson Sturgis and Bernard. Last, but not least, the stout, rubicund landlord, a typical Englishman, made his appearance.

As all were attired in their night clothes, the effect was picturesque, to say the least, “What is the matter?” asked the landlord.

“Call off the dog! Don’t you see he is tearing me to pieces?” roared Puffer.

“Bless my soul!” ejaculated the landlord, in bewilderment. “Where did he come from?”

“Take off the dog!” roared the professor again. Nelson Sturgis was the only one present who appeared to have his wits about him.

He approached, and seizing the animal by his collar, he forcibly pulled him away from his victim. The professor, whose leg had been badly torn, bent over and clasped his hands about the wounded place.

“Where did the dog come from, and how did he happen to attack you?” asked Sturgis.

“He was lying in wait here,” said the professor. “Won’t somebody kill him?”

“But how did you happen to be here?” asked Sturgis pointedly. “Is this your room?”

“No, it is the boy’s room.”

“Then how did you happen to be here?” persisted Sturgis.

“I heard a noise,” answered Puffer with some hesitation, “and thought the boy might be sick. I suppose it must have been the dog.”

Then he turned to Bernard.

“Why didn’t you sleep in the room?” he asked severely.

“Mr. Sturgis asked me to occupy his room. He has two beds.”

“Why didn’t you mention the matter to me, and ask my permission? Don’t you know that I am your guardian for the time being?”

“I had my reasons for not caring to sleep in this room,” said Bernard significantly. “Do you want to know what they are?”

“No,” answered Puffer, who feared that those reasons might compromise him. “Why did you admit the dog into the room?”

“I had no idea he was here. He must have slipped into the room when I left it.”

“That sounds very plausible,” sneered Puffer, “but I believe you called the dog into the room purposely.”

“What could have been my object in doing it?” asked Bernard quietly.

“To make an attack upon me.”

“But how could I know that you intended to enter the room?”

This was a question which Puffer found it difficult to answer.

The landlord had entered the room, and for the first time noticed the disappearance of the bureau.

“Young man, where is the bureau?” he inquired, addressing his inquiry to Bernard.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Do you know, sir?” asked Boniface, turning to Puffer.

“I moved it into my room,” answered the professor in some confusion.

“Then, sir, you took a great liberty,” said the innkeeper in an irate tone. “It must be moved back.”

“I will attend to it to-morrow.”

The company prepared to disperse.

“Bernard,” said the professor, “I expect you to finish the night in your own room.”

“Excuse me, Professor Puffer,” replied Bernard firmly, “but I would rather not.”

Professor Puffer muttered something, but did not dare to press the demand.

And so the night wore on, and Professor Puffer was obliged to acknowledge that his cunning stratagem had failed.

CHAPTER XX. A LOST CLUE

What would you advise me to do, Mr. Sturgis?” asked Bernard as he was dressing the next morning.

“I advise you to leave Professor Puffer. He seems to be a thoroughly bad man. You will be in danger as long as you remain with him.”

“I will take your advice, though this will throw me upon my own resources. I think I can make a living in some way, though I should know better how to go about it in America.”

“How much money have you got?”

“About twenty dollars.”

“That won’t last you long. I must see what I can think of for you. First of all, you mustn’t stay in Liverpool. Professor Puffer would probably make an effort to get you into his clutches.”

“Where would you advise me to go?”

“To London. I shall leave directly after breakfast and you can go up with me.”

“I shall be glad to go with one who has been there before. But I must keep out of the way of the professor.”

“I will arrange matters for you. When you are dressed, go at once to the station of the London and Northwestern Railway. You will find a restaurant close by where you can get breakfast. Then go to the waiting room, where I will join you before the next train starts.”

Bernard followed the directions of his friend, and Mr. Sturgis went down to breakfast. Professor Puffer was already in the coffee room.

“Where is my ward?” he asked abruptly.

“I can’t tell you, sir,” returned Nelson Sturgis coolly.

“Didn’t he pass the night with you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you should know where he is.”

“I have already told you that I don’t know.”

“Do you think he has left the hotel?”

“I think it quite probable.”

“Did he tell you where he was going?”

“No.”

“I believe you are deceiving me,” said Professor Puffer angrily.

“And I am sure that you are impertinent. I may feel inclined to pull your nose.”

Nelson Sturgis was a tall, athletic man, and Professor Puffer was persuaded that he could carry out his threat if he was so minded. Accordingly he thought it best to desist.

After breakfast Mr. Sturgis summoned a hotel attendant.

“Here is half a crown,” he said. “Go to the chamber of my young friend, Bernard Brooks, and bring his satchel to my room.”

“All right, sir.”

This was done without the observation of Puffer, or he would have prevented the removal of Bernard’s luggage.

Mr. Sturgis called a hackney coach, had his luggage put on, including Bernard’s satchel, and drove to the railway station.

“Well, Bernard, I have brought your satchel,” he said.

“Thank you, sir. I was wondering what I should do without it.”

“I had no idea of leaving it with the professor. Now I will secure tickets to London.”

“What will be the price?”

“Never mind. I will undertake to get you to London free of expense to yourself. Afterwards we will consult about your plans.”

Just as the train was starting, Professor Puffer reached the station, and from the platform espied his ward in the act of leaving him.

“Stop!” he called out, shaking his fist at the receding train.

“Good-by, Professor Puffer!” said Bernard with a smile and a wave of the hand.

Puffer in his anger, ran a few steps, talking violently.

“My ward is running away,” he said to a policeman. “Can’t you stop the train?”

“No; I can’t.”

“But I want to get him back.”

“Then you’ll have to go before a magistrate.”

“Where is that train going?”

“To London.”

“Then I’ll go, too. When is the next train?”

“At twelve o’clock, sir.”

Professor Puffer returned to the hotel at once, packed his trunk, and enrolled himself as a passenger on the noon train.

“If that fellow escapes me,” he said with an ugly look, “he’ll have to be pretty smart. I won’t have it said that a boy of his age has got the better of me.” Mr. Sturgis bought first class tickets, and Bernard found himself in a handsomely upholstered compartment only large enough to hold eight passengers.

The doors were locked after they started, which struck Bernard as peculiar.

“I like our American cars better,” he said.

“So do I, but they are not so exclusive. The English like to be exclusive.”

It was an express train, and deposited them in London in a few hours.

“Now, Bernard,” said Mr. Sturgis, “I think it will be well for us to go to different hotels. I shall go to the Charing Cross, but this is a prominent hotel, and should you go there you could easily be traced.”

“Where shall I go?”

“There is a comfortable family hotel in Arundel Street, Strand. The charges, including room and board, are only about six shillings per day, or a dollar and a half in American money. At the Charing Cross they are higher.”

“Then I will go to Arundel Street.”

“Very well. When you reach London I will see you started for your hotel.”

“Shan’t I see you again, sir?”

“Yes, I will call around in the evening. By the way, I have thought of a way to put Professor Puffer off the track.”

“How is that, sir?”

“He will very likely question some of the hackmen. I will therefore take you with me to the Charing Cross. Then we will dismiss the hackman, and you can take a cab from there to Arundel Street.” This precaution was well taken. When Professor Puffer reached London he began to interview the hackmen.

“I had two friends arrive by the nine o’clock train,” he said, “a gentleman and a boy of sixteen.” Then he described them.

“They neglected to tell me at what hotel they intended to stop. Do any of you remember seeing them?”

“Yes, sir,” replied one cabby. “I took them to the Charing Cross.”

“Thank you,” said Puffer, in a tone of satisfaction. “That is just what I wanted to find out. Here’s a shilling.”

“Thank you, sir. You are a gentleman.”

“And you may take me to the Charing Cross. I shall probably find them there.”

“I should make a good detective,” thought the professor complacently, as he rolled through the streets. “Master Bernard Brooks will find that he hasn’t made much in his attempt to outwit me. Indeed I am better off for it, as he has been obliged to pay his own fare to London.”

When he reached the hotel, he inquired at the office: “Is there an American gentleman named Sturgis here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where is he now?”

“In the dining-room, taking dinner.”

Professor Puffer smiled maliciously.

“Doubtless Bernard will be with him,” He reflected. “They will be rather surprised to see me.”

He walked into the dining-room and looked around.

His search was partially rewarded.

At a table near the window sat Nelson Sturgis with a substantial dinner before him, but Bernard was not with him.

“He is somewhere in the hotel,” thought the professor. “Meanwhile I will pay my respects to Mr. Sturgis.”

“I hope I see you well, Mr. Sturgis,” said the professor, with an ironical smile.

“Thank you, I am quite well,” answered Sturgis composedly.

“You see I have reached London not far behind you.”

“So I see.”

“Did you and my ward have a pleasant journey?”

“Very pleasant.”

“I am indebted to you for paying his traveling expenses.”

“You can reimburse me if you like.”

“You must excuse me. I only pay the boy’s bills when he is traveling with me.”

“Just as you like.”

“I will now relieve you of the charge which, without my permission, you have undertaken. Will you be kind enough to notify Bernard that I have come for him?”

“Why do you give me that commission?” asked Sturgis, arching his brows. “Are you under the impression that Bernard is with me?”

“Certainly. Isn’t he?”

“No.”

“Isn’t he stopping at this hotel?”

“He is not.”

“Where, then, is he? I have positive information that he came here with you.”

“From whom did you obtain the information?”

“From the hackman who drove you here,” answered Professor Puffer triumphantly.

“Then I can’t deny it,” said Sturgis, with affected chagrin.

“Of course you can’t. It wasn’t much trouble to get on your track. I am sharper than you probably anticipated.”

“Very true, Professor Puffer.”

“Now I will thank you to tell me where Bernard is. Of course you know?”

“I can guess.”

“So I supposed.”

“But I don’t propose to tell.”

“That is of very little importance. He is in this hotel. I have traced him here.”

“He is not here now, however. He is in a different part of London.”

“Is this true?” asked Professor Puffer, his jaw dropping.

“Quite true, I assure you. By the way, Professor Puffer, you may be sharp, but I think I am a match for you. And now, if you kindly leave me, I will resume my dinner.”

CHAPTER XXI. A DAY IN LONDON

Bernard found the Arundel Hotel, to which he had been directed, neat and quiet. It was more like a large boarding-house than a hotel. The terms were very reasonable, and that with him was an important consideration.

There were several Americans among the guests, including two ministers and a schoolma’am of uncertain age, who was taking a well-earned rest after fifteen years of service in the public schools of Massachusetts.

It was next to her that Bernard had a seat at the table. Being, from her profession, attracted by young people, she was led to feel an interest in the bright and attractive boy with whom the exigencies of hotel life had brought her in contact.

“You are an American boy, I take it?” she said.

“Yes, miss.”

“Miss Smith,” she suggested, smiling. “It is a little more convenient to know the name of the person to whom you are speaking.”

“Miss Smith, then. My name is Bernard Brooks.”

“Ah, indeed! I think there is a Brooks family in Somerville, Massachusetts, where I am teaching. Are they related to you?”

“I don’t think so. I come from New York State.”

“Here we are all Americans. Have you arrived’ lately?”

“Only two days since.”

“And it is your first visit to England?”

“Yes.”

“Do you intend to visit the continent?”

“I should like to.”

“But that probably depends upon your traveling companions.”

“I have no traveling companions.”

“Did you come to England alone?” asked Miss Smith, in some surprise.

“No. I was in the company of Professor Puffer.”

“Indeed! I never heard of the gentleman. Is he a professor of Harvard?”

“I don’t think he is connected with any college. I am told that he is interested in antiquities, and has written upon the subject.”

“I should like to meet him,” said the schoolmistress.

“Perhaps you will introduce me.”

“I am afraid I cannot. The professor and I have parted.”

“Why, if it isn’t taking too great a liberty to ask?”

“I didn’t like him. He didn’t treat me well. Once, in a fit of sleep-walking, he tried to throw me into the sea.”

“That seems strange. Certainly you were justified in leaving him. Where is he now?”

“I left him in Liverpool.”

“But didn’t he have charge of you?”

“Yes; but I think I can take better care of myself.”

“You may think me intrusive, but I am old enough to be your mother; that is, almost,” she added cautiously. “Didn’t he have charge of money for your expenses?”

“I was engaged to assist him as his private secretary. I was to have twenty-five dollars a month and my expenses paid.”

“That was very good pay. I see that you are in a difficult position. Do you really think it would be unsafe for you to stay with him?”

“I am sure of it.”

“Then, of course, that settles it. Have you taken the advice of any older person?”

“I took the advice of Mr. Nelson Sturgis, from Boston.”

“That is a very good Boston name. Is Mr. Sturgis in this hotel?”

“No; he went to the Charing Cross.”

“If you don’t think me impertinent, how do you expect to defray your expenses? Is there any one in America who will provide you with the necessary fund?”

“No. There is a man in New York who calls himself my guardian, but he certainly is not my friend. He put me in charge of this Professor Puffer, and from a letter I picked up I find he wants to get rid of me.”

“But how will you live?”

“I shall try to get something to do, Miss Smith.”

“That will be hard in a city like London, where you are a stranger.”

“I have no doubt of that, but there is no other course open to me.”

“If you were in America you would stand a better chance. I wish I could think of any way of helping you. I have a nephew about your age, and I can’t help thinking what if he were in your position. Shall you stay long at this hotel?”

“I shall have money enough to stay a week or two.”

“And I shall be here about a week. I must think for you.”

“I wish you would,” said Bernard gratefully. “It seems pleasant to have some one interested in you.”

“Won’t this Mr. Sturgis do something for you?”

“He has already. It is he who paid my expenses from Liverpool. He seems a very nice gentleman, and I am sure he is friendly to me.”

“You had better look over the daily papers, and if you see any place advertised which you think you can fill, apply for it.”

“Thank you. I will take your advice.”

During the afternoon Bernard walked through the Strand and Fleet Street. He found plenty to attract his attention. Though the signs were English he found a great difference between English and American shops. Near the Bank of England he met Nelson Sturgis.

“Glad to meet you, Bernard,” said the Boston drummer. “I have some news for you.”

“What is it, Mr. Sturgis?”

“Your friend, the professor, has called upon me at the Charing Cross.”

Bernard was startled.

“How do you think he guessed we were there?”

“In the easiest way in the world. He found the cabby who had driven us to the hotel.”

“Was he looking for me?”

“Yes. When he saw me his face brightened. He demanded you, thinking that you were somewhere in the hotel.”

“It is lucky I didn’t stay there. Is he there now?”

“No; finding that he was mistaken, he went away disappointed.”

“Suppose we meet him in the street?”

“Bluff him. Refuse to go with him. He would have to prove a right to control you, and that would be difficult. How do you like your hotel?”

“Very much. It is comfortable and cheap.”

“Have you made any acquaintances?”

“Yes; a schoolma’am from Massachusetts.”

“Is she young and pretty?” asked Mr. Sturgis with a smile.

“No; she is plain, and, as to age, I think she must be near forty. She might do for you,” suggested Bernard with a roguish look.

“Thank you. Your description doesn’t seem attractive.”

“She is a very nice lady, however, and has given me some good advice about getting a position.”

“I am glad of that. I wish I could do something for you, but my stay in London is very limited.”

“I am sorry for that. I shall feel very lonely when you are gone.”

“And unfortunately I go to-morrow.”

“Where?”

“To some of the manufacturing districts. You know my trip is a business one. How are you off for money?”

“I can get along for the present, and I hope before long to get a place.”

“I hope so, but I fear your being an American will interfere with you. The English have an idea that American boys have too much license, and they would hesitate to take one into their employment.”

“It seems queer to see boys even younger than I am with silk hats on.”

“Yes; but it is the English style. You can’t pass for an English boy – of the better class – without following their example.”

“I wouldn’t do that. They look like guys. Just let one of them appear in New York rigged out in that way. Why, the other boys would mob him.”

“That is true. Still I don’t know, but it is well when you are in Rome to do as the Romans do.”

“Does that mean that you recommend me to put on one of those tiles?”

“Well, not at present,” said Mr. Sturgis. “If it would procure you a position I should advise you to do so.”

Presently the two separated, and Bernard strolled on alone, his companion having a business call to make near the bank.

“Have a shine?”

The boy who asked the question was a typical London street urchin, with ragged clothes, and face and hands bearing evidence of his occupation.

Bernard looked at his shoes. They certainly stood in need of polishing, but he knew that his means were small and daily diminishing, and was cautious enough to ask the price.

“A penny,” answered the street boy.

Bernard signed to the boy to begin.

The boy understood his business, and went to work like an expert.

“Do you earn much?” asked Bernard.

“That’s as it happens. When I’m lucky I make one and eight pence or two shillin’s. Yesterday a gent – he was an American – give me sixpence for a shine. Americans are rich.”

“Not all of them. I am an American.”

“Have you got a bowie knife?”

“No,” answered Bernard, with a laugh. “What makes you ask?”

“I was readin’ a story in a paper that said all the American boys carried bowie knives.”

“That’s a mistake.”

Bernard was feeling for a penny to pay the young bootblack when he heard a snort of triumph, and looking up, he saw Professor Puffer bearing down upon him.