nner. There
was nothing at all singular in its appearance.

On a book shelf were a few books, and some old numbers of magazines.
There was one window looking into a back yard, but as the room was
small it was sufficient to light the apartment.

Dodger looked about in a cursory manner, not feeling any particular
interest in his surroundings, for he had but fifteen minutes to wait,
but he thought it rather queer that it should be thought necessary to
lock him in.

He waited impatiently for the time to pass.

Seventeen minutes had passed when he heard the bolt drawn. Fixing his
eyes eagerly on the door he saw it open, and two persons entered.

One was the hump-backed negro, carrying on a waiter a plate of
buttered bread, and a cup of tea; the other person was--not the old
man, but, to Dodger's great amazement, a person well-remembered,
though he had only seen him once--Curtis Waring.

"Set down the waiter on the table, Julius," said Waring.

Dodger looked on in stupefaction. He was getting more and more
bewildered.

"Now, you can go!" said Curtis, in a tone of authority.

The negro bowed, and after he had disposed of the waiter, withdrew.

"Do you know me, boy?" asked Curtis, turning now and addressing
Dodger.

"Yes; you are Mr. Waring."

"You remember where you last saw me?"

"Yes, sir. At your uncle's house on Madison Avenue."

"Quite right."

"How did you come here? Where is the old man whose valise I brought
from the Albany boat?"

Curtis smiled, and drew from his pocket a gray wig and whiskers.

"You understand now, don't you?"

"Yes, sir; I understand that I have been got here by a trick."

"Yes," answered Curtis, coolly. "I have deemed it wise to use a little
stratagem. But you must be hungry. Sit down and eat your supper while
I am talking to you."

Dodger was hungry, for it was past his usual supper time, and he saw
no reason why he should not accept the invitation.

Accordingly, he drew his chair up to the table and began to eat.
Curtis seated himself on the other chair.

"I have a few questions to ask you, and that is why I arranged this
interview. We are quite by ourselves," he added, significantly.

"Very well, sir; go ahead."

"Where is my Cousin Florence? I am right, I take it, in assuming that
you know where she is."

"Yes, sir; I know," answered Dodger, slowly.

"Very well, tell me."

"I don't think she wants you to know."

Curtis frowned.

"It is necessary I should