sses, and two syphons of
soda.'

'You haven't got any Kentucky or Canadian?' asked the prisoner,
moistening his lips. The jail whiteness in his face was now
accentuated by the pallor of fear, and the haunted look of the escaped
convict glimmered from his eyes. In spite of the comfort I had
attempted to bestow upon him, he knew that he had been rescued in
mistake for another, and for the first time since he left prison
realised he was among strangers, and not among friends. In his trouble
he turned to the beverage of his native continent.

'Bring a bottle of Canadian whisky,' I said to the servant, who
disappeared, and shortly returned with what I had ordered. I locked
the door after him, and put the key in my pocket.

'What am I to call you?' I asked the ex-convict.

With a forced laugh he said; 'You can call me Jack for short.'

'Very well, Jack, help yourself,' and he poured out a very liberal
glass of the Dominion liquor, refusing to dilute it with soda.
Sanderson took Scotch, and I helped myself to a _petit verre_ of
brandy.

'Now, Jack,' I began, 'I may tell you plainly that if I wished to send
you back to prison, I could not do so without incriminating myself.
You are legally dead, and you have now a chance to begin life anew, an
opportunity of which I hope you will take advantage. If you were to
apply three weeks from today at the prison doors, they would not dare
admit you. You are dead. Does that console you?'

'Well, squire, you can bet your bottom dollar I never thought I'd be
pleased to hear I was dead, but I'm glad if it's all fixed as you say,
and you can bet your last pair of boots I'm going to keep out of the
jug in future if I can.'

'That's right. Now, I can promise that if you answer all my questions
truthfully, you shall be given money enough to afford you a new
beginning in life.'

'Good enough,' said Jack briefly.

'You were known in prison as Wyoming Ed?'

'Yes, sir.'

'If that was not your name, why did you use it?'

'Because Colonel Jim, on the train, asked me to do that. He said it
would give him a pull in England to get me free.'

'Did you know Wyoming Ed?'

'Yes, sir, he was one of us three that held up the train.'

'What became of him?'

'He was shot dead.'

'By one of the passengers?'

There was silence, during which the old man groaned, and bowed his
head. Jack was studying the floor. Then he looked up at me and said:--

'You don't expect me to give a pal away,