d calmed and strengthened him.

There was a lounge in the room, and, calling a servant, Mr. Belcher
ordered blankets to be brought down. "You can sleep here to-night, and I
will see you in the morning," said he, rising, and leaving him without
even the common courtesy of a "good-night."

Poor Sam Yates had a very bad night indeed. He was humiliated by the
proof of his weakness, and maddened by the outrage which had been
attempted upon him and his good resolutions. In the morning, he met Mr.
Belcher, feeble and unrefreshed, and with seeming acquiescence received
his directions for future work.

"I want you to take the road from here to Sevenoaks, stopping at every
town on the way. You can be sure of this: he is not near Sevenoaks. The
whole county, and in fact the adjoining counties, were all ransacked to
find him. He cannot have found asylum there; so he must be either
between here and Sevenoaks, or must have gone into the woods beyond.
There's a trapper there, one Jim Fenton. He may have come across him in
the woods, alive or dead, and I want you to go to his camp and find out
whether he knows anything. My impression is that he knew Benedict well,
and that Benedict used to hunt with him. When you come back to me, after
a faithful search, with the report that you can find nothing of him, or
with the report of his death, we shall be ready for decisive operations.
Write me when you have anything to write, and if you find it necessary
to spend money to secure any very desirable end, spend it."

Then Mr. Belcher put into the hands of his agent a roll of bank-notes,
and armed him with a check that might be used in case of emergency, and
sent him off.

It took Yates six long weeks to reach Sevenoaks. He labored daily with
the same faithfulness that had characterized his operations in the city,
and, reaching Sevenoaks, he found himself for a few days free from care,
and at liberty to resume the acquaintance with his early home, where he
and Robert Belcher had been boys together.

The people of Sevenoaks had long before heard of the fall of Sam Yates
from his early rectitude. They had once been proud of him, and when he
left them for the city, they expected to hear great things of him. So
when they learned that, after entering upon his profession with
brilliant promise, he had ruined himself with drink, they bemoaned him
for a while, and at last forgot him. His relatives never mentioned him,
and when, well dressed, dignif