fresh-water ferry-boat, bound for Jersey City! No one will ever
know my sense of humiliation. And, when the Italian boy insulted my
immaculate tan shoes by pointing at them and saying, "Shine?" I
could have slain him. Fancy digging for buried treasure in freshly
varnished boots! But Edgar did not mind. To him there was nothing
lacking; it was just as it should be. He was deeply engrossed in
calculating how many offices were for rent in the Singer Building!

When we reached the other side, he refused to answer any of my
eager questions. He would not let me know even for what place on
the line he had purchased our tickets, and, as a hint that I should
not disturb him, he stuffed into my hands the latest magazines. "At
least tell me this," I demanded. "Have you ever been to this place
before to-day?"

"0nce," said Edgar shortly, "last week. That's when I found out I
would need some one with me who could dig."

"How do you know it's the RIGHT place?" I whispered.

The summer season was over, and of the chair car we were the only
occupants; but, before he answered, Edgar looked cautiously round
him and out of the window. We had just passed Red Bank.

"Because the map told me," he answered. "Suppose," he continued
fretfully, "you had a map of New York City with the streets marked
on it plainly? Suppose the map said that if you walked to where
Broadway and Fifth Avenue meet, you would find the Flatiron
Building. Do you think you could find it?"