llars? Hand
out the money." This was said as they were sitting together in a corner or
separated portion of the smoking-room of a little hotel at which they were
waiting for a steamer which was to take them down the Mississippi to St.
Louis. Peacocke looked round and saw that they were alone.

"I shall hand out nothing till I see your brother's grave," said Peacocke.

"You won't?"

"Not a dollar! What is the good of your going on like that? You ought to
know me well enough by this time."

"But you do not know me well enough. You must have taken me for a very
tame sort o' critter."

"Perhaps I have."

"Maybe you'll change your mind."

"Perhaps I shall. It is quite possible that you should murder me. But
you will not get any money by that."

"Murder you. You ain't worth murdering." Then they sat in silence,
waiting another hour and a half till the steamboat came. The reader will
understand that it must have been a bad time for Mr. Peacocke.

They were on the steamer together for about twenty-four hours, during
which Lefroy hardly spoke a word. As far as his companion could
understand he was out of funds, because he remained sober during the
greater part of the day, taking only what amount of liquor was provided
for him. Before, however, they reached St. Louis, which they did late at
night, he had made acquaintance with certain fellow-travellers, and was
drunk and noisy when they got out upon the quay. Mr. Peacocke bore his
position as well as he could, and accompanied him up to the hotel. It was
arranged that they should remain two days at St. Louis, and then start for
San Francisco by the railway which runs across the State of Kansas.
Before he went to bed Lefroy insisted on going into the large hall in
which, as is usual in American hotels, men sit and loafe and smoke and
read the newspapers. Here, though it was twelve o'clock, there was still
a crowd; and Lefroy, after he had seated himself and lit his cigar, got up
from his seat and addressed all the men around him.

"Here's a fellow," said he, "has come out from England to find out what's
become of Ferdinand Lefroy."

"I knew Ferdinand Lefroy," said one man, "and I know you too, Master
Robert."

"What has become of Ferdinand Lefroy?" asked Mr. Peacocke.

"He's gone where all the good fellows go," said another.

"You mean that he is dead?" asked Peacocke.

"Of course he's dead," said Robert. "I've been telling him so ever since
we l