At last, so Luke verily believed, he stood face to face with the man who had deceived his dying father, and defrauded his mother and himself of a sum which would wholly change their positions and prospects. But he wanted to know positively, and he could not think of a way to acquire this knowledge.
Meanwhile the gentleman noticed the boy's scrutiny, and it did not please him.
"Well, boy!" he said gruffly, "you seem determined to know me again. You stare hard enough. Let me tell you this is not good manners."
"Excuse me," said Luke, "but your face looked familiar to me. I thought I had seen you before."
"Very likely you have. I come to Chicago frequently, and generally stop at the Sherman House."
"Probably that explains it," said Luke. "Are you not Mr. Thomas, of St. Louis?"
The gentleman laughed.
"You will have to try again," he said. "I am Mr. Browning, of Milwaukee. Thomas is my first name."
"Browning!" thought Luke, disappointed. "Evidently I am on the wrong track. And yet he answers father's description exactly."
"I don't know anyone in Milwaukee," he said aloud.
"Then it appears we can't claim acquaintance."
The gentleman took his paper and turned down Randolph Street toward State.
"Strange!" he soliloquized, "that boy's interest in my personal appearance. I wonder if there can be a St. Louis man who resembles me. If so, he can't be a very good-looking man. This miserable wart ought to be enough to distinguish me from anyone else."
He paused a minute, and then a new thought came into his mind.
"There is something familiar in that boy's face. I wonder who he can be. I will buy my evening papers of him, and take that opportunity to inquire."
Meanwhile Luke, to satisfy a doubt in his mind, entered the hotel, and, going up to the office, looked over the list of arrivals. He had to turn back a couple of pages and found this entry:
"THOMAS BROWNING, Milwaukee."
"His name is Browning, and he does come from Milwaukee," he said to himself. "I thought, perhaps, he might have given me a false name, though he could have no reason for doing so."
Luke felt that he must look farther for the man who had betrayed his father's confidence.
"I didn't think there could be two men of such a peculiar appearance," he reflected. "Surely there can't be three. If I meet another who answers the description I shall be convinced that he is the man I am after."
In the afternoon the same man approached Luke, as he stood on his accustomed corner.
"You may give me the _Mail_ and _Journal_," he said.
"Yes, sir; here they are. Three cents."
"I believe you are the boy who recognized me, or thought you did, this morning."
"Yes, sir."
"If you ever run across this Mr. Thomas, of St. Louis, present him my compliments, will you?"
"Yes, sir," answered Luke, with a smile.
"By the way, what is your name?"
"Luke Walton."
The gentleman started.
"Luke Walton!" he repeated, slowly, eying the newsboy with a still closer scrutiny.
"Yes, sir."
"It's a new name to me. Can't your father find a better business for you than selling papers?"
"My father is dead, sir."
"Dead!" repeated Browning, slowly. "That is un fortunate for you. How long has he been dead?"
"About two years."
"What did he die of?"
"I don't know, sir, exactly. He died away from home--in............
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