m on the following day. He
had, however, managed to leave the place before the police had got hold of
him, and had escaped, so that no one had been able to say at what station
he had got upon the railway. Nor did any one in San Francisco know where
Robert Lefroy was now to be found. His companions had been taken, tried,
and convicted, and were now in the State prison,--where also would Robert
Lefroy soon be if any of the officers of the State could get hold of him.
Luckily Mr. Peacocke had said little or nothing of the man in making his
own inquiries. Much as he had hated and dreaded the man; much as he had
suffered from his companionship,--good reason as he had to dislike the
whole family,--he felt himself bound by their late companionship not to
betray him. The man had assisted Mr. Peacocke simply for money; but still
he had assisted him. Mr. Peacocke therefore held his peace and said
nothing. But he would have been thankful to have been able to send the
money that was now due to him without having again to see him. That,
however, was impossible.

On reaching Chicago he went to an hotel far removed from that which Lefroy
had designated. Lefroy had explained to him something of the geography of
the town, and had explained that for himself he preferred a "modest, quiet
hotel." The modest, quiet hotel was called Mrs. Jones's boarding-house,
and was in one of the suburbs far from the main street. "You needn't say
as you're coming to me," Lefroy had said to him; "nor need you let on as
you know anything of Mrs. Jones at all. People are so curious; and it may
be that a gentleman sometimes likes to lie _perdu_." Mr. Peacocke,
although he had but small sympathy for the taste of a gentleman who likes
to lie _perdu_, nevertheless did as he was bid, and found his way to Mrs.
Jones's boarding-house without telling any one whither he was going.

Before he started he prepared himself with a thousand dollars in
bank-notes, feeling that this wretched man had earned them in accordance
with their compact. His only desire now was to hand over the money as
quickly as possible, and to hurry away out of Chicago. He felt as though
he himself were almost guilty of some crime in having to deal with this
man, in having to give him money secretly, and in carrying out to the end
an arrangement of which no one else was to know the details. How would it
be with him if the police of Chicago should come upon him as a friend, and
prob