# Ned Wilding's Disappearance/Chapter 20

CHAPTER XX
IN THE LODGING HOUSE
Ned felt around on the ground. He thought the valise might have slipped from the rope and rolled away into some corner of the yard. He got down on his knees and crawled about, looking among boxes and barrels, as well as he could in the darkness. But the valise was gone.
"Where in the world could it have disappeared to?" Ned asked himself. "I came down within three minutes after I lowered it to the ground."
There was a gate, opening from the yard to the street, and Ned decided some one had either seen or heard the valise drop and had slipped in and stolen it.
"Now I am in a pickle," the lad murmured. "No baggage, not even a clean collar, only a little over four dollars left" (for he had taken one from his pocketbook to leave for his room rent), "and I can't even tell the police I've been robbed. If I do they'll question me and find out I'm wanted for that stock matter. I certainly am up against ​it. But I guess I'd better get away from here. That detective may go to my room, discover that I've gone, and make a search."
Ned peered out of the gate. The street was deserted at that moment. With a hasty look up at the window of his room he had just left, and from which the rope still dangled, Ned, in worse plight than he had been before, hurried away. Once more he felt himself an outcast, without a place to go.
"When they see that rope they'll suspect I'm some sort of a criminal," he reflected bitterly. "What a lot of trouble a fellow can get into without meaning it," he reflected. "This is the last time I'll ever buy stocks or bonds on my own responsibility. I guess dad can manage finances until I learn the ropes a little better."
He walked on, not knowing whither he was bound. He emerged from the side street to one of the main thoroughfares. There he mingled with the crowds, believing, that for the present at least, he was safe from pursuit.
"But I've got to stay somewhere to-night," he told himself. "I can't walk the streets forever. I wonder if there isn't some place where I can get a bed without having to answer a lot of questions about myself?"
​As he walked along an illuminated sign, on a building across the street, attracted his attention. It informed those who cared to know that the place was the "Owl Lodging House," and that single beds could be had for fifteen cents a night, or a room including the privilege of a bath, for twenty-five cents.
"That about fits my pocketbook," Ned reasoned. "Twenty-five cents a night is cheaper than a dollar, and I've got to be saving. I wonder if it's clean? It seems like living in a tenement house, but I s'pose lots of men have to. I'll try it anyhow. If I don't like the looks of it I can leave."
He walked up the stairs. Certainly the place would not have taken a prize for cleanliness but then, Ned reflected, beggars must not be choosers. He emerged into a big room, lighted by several gas jets, and seemingly filled with men in chairs who were lolling about in all sorts of attitudes. Some were asleep and some were reading newspapers. As Ned stood irresolutely gazing on the scene his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp voice.
"Well, young man, do you want a room or a bed?"
"Have you any rooms left?" asked Ned, ​turning to see a man staring at him from a small window in an office built against one side of the apartment.
"Lots of 'em," replied the clerk of the lodging house. "Twenty-five cents. Pay in advance. This isn't the Waldorf-Astoria."
Ned handed a quarter through the half circular opening and received in return a key with a big brass tag.
"Do I register?" asked Ned, hoping that he would not have to put down another false name.
"Register nothin'," the clerk replied. "They go by numbers here. Yours is seventeen," and Ned, looking at the tag on his key, saw what the clerk meant.
"I'm glad there's no thirteen in this," the boy thought. "How do I get to my room?" he asked.
"Right along the corridor. You can't miss it. Go on until you strike the right number and go in. Do you snore?"
"No. Why?"
"Because there is a man in the next room to you who says he'll punch my face in, if I put any one near him who snores. It's all right. Go ahead. If you want a bath it's the last room at ​the end of the hall, but you have to furnish your own soap and towels."
"That settles the bath question," thought Ned; "that is unless I dry myself on a pocket handkerchief, and I guess I'd better save that."
"Lock your door," the clerk called after him. "We're not responsible for anything stolen from the rooms."
Ned had not expected much for twenty-five cents, and the small room, the little narrow iron cot, and the scanty supply of coverings did not disappoint him. The room was merely separated from the others, in the row of which it was, by partitions that did not extend all the way to the ceiling. Ned sat down on the chair and gazed about him. He could hear men in the next rooms breathing heavily. It was rather chilly for there was no fire in the bedrooms.
"I can use my overcoat for a blanket," Ned inadvertently spoke aloud. The next moment a voice, from the room on his left startled him.
"Hello, in seventeen!" called a man.
"Well?" asked Ned.
"Do you snore?"
"No."
"All right. If you do there'll be trouble. I'm a light sleeper."
​Ned wondered who his unseen questioner was, but he was too tired to care much.
He undressed, and crawled into bed. His overcoat answered well for a blanket, and soon he began to feel warm and drowsy, in spite of his strange surroundings.
He must have slept for several hours when he was suddenly awakened by a pounding on his door.
"What is it? Is the place afire?" he called, sitting up in bed.
"Fire nothing! I want my money you took!" It was the voice of the man who had asked him if he snored.
"I haven't your money," Ned answered, thinking the man might be a lunatic.
"Yes, you have! You sneaked into my room and took it! I woke up just in time! Open the door or I'll break it down!"
Ned sprang from his bed and turned the key. The door flew open and a big man with a red moustache entered.
"Give me my money!" he demanded, striding up to Ned.