Chapter XXXII. A Startling Discovery

"Well," thought Carl, as he left the house where he had been so hospitably entertained, "I shall not lack for business. Miss Norris seems to have a great deal of confidence in me, considering that I am a stranger. I will take care that she does not repent it."

"Can you give a poor man enough money to buy a cheap meal?" asked a plaintive voice.

Carl scanned the applicant for charity closely. He was a man of medium size, with a pair of small eyes, and a turnup nose. His dress was extremely shabby, and he had the appearance of one who was on bad terms with fortune. There was nothing striking about his appearance, yet Carl regarded him with surprise and wonder. Despite the difference in age, he bore a remarkable resemblance to his stepbrother, Peter Cook.

"I haven't eaten anything for twenty-four hours," continued the tramp, as he may properly be called. "It's a hard world to such as me, boy."

"I should judge so from your looks," answered Carl.

"Indeed you are right. I was born to ill luck."

Carl had some doubts about this. Those who represent themselves as born to ill luck can usually trace the ill luck to errors or shortcomings of their own. There are doubtless inequalities of fortune, but not as great as many like to represent. Of two boys who start alike one may succeed, and the other fail, but in nine cases out of ten the success or failure may be traced to a difference in the qualities of the boys.

"Here is a quarter if that will do you any good," said Carl.

The man clutched at it with avidity.

"Thank you. This will buy me a cup of coffee and a plate of meat, and will put new life into me."

He was about to hurry away, but Carl felt like questioning him further. The extraordinary resemblance between this man and his stepbrother led him to think it possible that there might be a relationship between them. Of his stepmother's family he knew little or nothing. His father had married her on short acquaintance, and she was very reticent about her former life. His father was indolent, and had not troubled himself to make inquiries. He took her on her own representation as the widow of a merchant who had failed in business.

On the impulse of the moment--an impulse which he could not explain--Carl asked abruptly--"Is your name Cook?"

A look of surprise, almost of stupefaction, appeared on the man's face.

"Who told you my name?" he asked.

"Then your name is Cook?"

"What is your object in asking?" said the man, suspiciously.

"I mean you no harm," returned Carl, "but I have reasons for asking."

"Did you ever see me before?" asked the man.

"No."

"Then what makes you think my name