“This is marvelous!” repeated Mr.Duncan, when he finally spoke again. “And now, what do you intend to do?”

“That Icannot tell. Ihave formed no plans whatever. Ihave even doubted the wisdom of my flight.”

“Idon’t know about that. Perhaps you did right, perhaps not.”

“Do you doubt my innocence?”

“No, Ican’t say that Ido. You don’t look like a man capable of performing such a deed. And Leonard gave a very good account of you. No, Ihaven’t the least doubt of your innocence. But if you had stood the trial, and been acquitted, it might have been better.”

“That is what Ithought,” said Carlos. “But the evidence is strong, and everybody in Dalton believes me guilty; at least everybody except the secret few who know better, and Ido not expect they will come forward to criminate themselves in order to save me.”

“You believe, then, that the real murderer lives in Dalton?”

“Yes, or some one associated with him. The murder was done by parties who knew something of my uncle, and who had some secret purpose to serve—else why the anxiety to obtain that fragment of paper bearing the finishing words to something that he had written?”

“It might have been for fear it would furnish a clew to detection.”

“No—the only way in which it could be used in that way would be to match it to the larger paper from which it was torn, and that could easily be destroyed.”

“True; but it is strange. The words ‘seven o’clock’ do not amount to much. They probably have only a casual meaning.”

“Perhaps; but Imust caution you not to repeat them where they will be heard. Leonard said in his note, as Itold you, that they would give the murderer all the information he wanted.”

“Yes; Ihad forgotten that. But it is utterly inexplicable.”

“It is, indeed.”

“Let me see,” said Mr.Duncan. “Have you many acquaintances here in New York?”

“Ihave none at all. Most of my life has been spent across the ocean, except a few years, when Iwas a good deal younger than Iam now; and during the three days Iwas here, previous to going to Dalton, Imade no acquaintances, except in your own family. Ido not think that Iwas even in the store here often enough for the clerks to know me. The porter mistook me for one of your traveling agents.”

“Did he? That circumstance may be used to advantage. We will not undeceive him. Let him think that you are a traveling agent, and he’ll tell no damaging tales.”

“Ah! you are inclined to befriend me, Isee. How can Ithank you?”

“Yes, Iam inclined to befriend you, and, as for thanks, never mind them now. You are a stranger here, and in Dalton. These facts are fortunate. Will any one there be apt to conclude that you have come to me?”

“Ithink not. No one there knows enough about me to form such a conclusion.”

“Do not be too sure of that. It would be strange if something did not appear at the examination that would throw the scent this way.”

“Yes, Ihad forgotten about that. But Ido not remember much about the testimony. Iam rather stupid, Ithink.”

“Well, there is not much cause for immediate alarm on that score, Iapprehend. It will take time for the Dalton authorities to communicate to the New York police what they know about you and your connections, and before such communication is had, Ithink we can find a safe hiding-place for you.”

“Where will it be?” asked Carlos.

“Oh, Idon’t know yet. Ibelieve,” musingly, “that Iwill consult Mishler.”

“He is your partner. Is he a safe man?”

“Safe? Ishould say so! And closed-mouthed as a mummy. The course Ihave named seems the only available one just now. And then Ishall wait for Leonard to turn up. He knows how to take care of himself, and Ido not doubt that he will put in an appearance soon.”

“Possibly. But he wrote that he was a prisoner, and helpless.”

“Yes, Iknow; but my conviction is as Ihave stated. It is not easy to outwit Leonard.”

The merchant’s eyes twinkled, as if experience had filled him with confidence in the pluck, shrewdness, and good judgment of his foreign agent.

“I’ll call Mishler now. You sit in the corner here and look in this ledger.” Mr.Duncan opened a large account-book and spread it on a small writing-table. “If any outsider comes in, you can pass as an accountant in my employ. Don’t look up from your work, and nobody will see your face.”

Carlos took a seat before the table, with his back toward the door, and prepared to bury himself in the columns of figures before him on an instant’s warning.

Mr.Mishler soon entered in obedience to a call from Mr.Duncan. And, as soon as the latter had briefly stated the leading facts of the case, the two great merchants were absorbed in a discussion as to the best means of secreting a fugitive from the law.

Aconclusion was at length reached.

Mr. Duncan introduced Carlos to Mr.Mishler.

“You need trouble yourself to make no explanations,” said the latter; “Iunderstand all. Iam going out, and in ten minutes you will please follow me and step into a close carriage which will be standing outside.”

Carlos, at the end of the time named, proceeded as Mr.Mishler had directed, and the two were soon riding up Broadway, amid the crowd and bustle of that ever busy street.

But little was said by either gentleman. Mr.Mishler was habitually a silent man; he was thoroughly devoted to business, and seldom spoke unless he had something to say, and then his words were few and his sentences compact. He was a German, but his English pronunciation would not have betrayed the fact. Carlos had already told his story to Mr.Duncan, who in turn had imparted it to Mr.Mishler; so there was little occasion for conversation.

After a lengthy drive up Broadway, the carriage turned on a cross street, and in a short time drew up before a brown-stone front which had nothing to distinguish it from its neighbors except the number over the door.

“Some German friends of mine live here,” said Mr.Mishler. “They let rooms to single gentlemen. Amusician named Werner, who has just arrived in this country, occupies an apartment in the third story. Iwill put you in his charge. He is trustworthy.”

“And what about the other occupants?”

“It is none of their business; but they will think you have come to see about taking piano-lessons of Mr.Werner.”

“Yes, that will do, for Iam something of a musician myself.”

Aservant admitted them in answer to a ring at the door-bell.

Mr.Mishler led the way to Mr.Werner’s room, and in a moment they were in the presence of the musician. He was about the same age as Carlos, and was tall, slim, and straight as an arrow. He had delicate though manly features, a pale complexion, and deep eyes, which bespoke an intense and romantic nature.

Mr.Mishler addressed him rapidly in German for a few moments, explaining briefly that Carlos had reasons for wishing to be unknown for a few days, and requesting Mr.Werner to give him the shelter of his room for a short time.

There were a few questions and answers, and then, the matter being decided, Mr.Mishler took his leave.

“Ispeak German,” said Carlos, addressing the musician in his own language, “probably better than you do English.”

“Ah, Iam glad,” replied Mr.Werner. “Ihave been in this country only a month, and know very little of your tongue yet.”

“We will get along very well together.”

“Yes. Have you been speaking disrespectfully of your emperor—or president, as they call him—that they desire to imprison you?”

“Oh, no,” replied Carlos, smiling. “They do not imprison people for political offenses in the United States. Ours is what we call a free country. But Iam accused of a crime of which Iam innocent, and am secreting myself because it is difficult to obtain evidence that will acquit me. Ihope to overcome the difficulty before long.”

“Yes? You have my sympathy. Where did you learn to speak German so well?”

“In your own country. Iwas there for some years, and at one time attended the music school at Stuttgart.”

“Indeed! There is where Iwas trained in the divine art. Will you play for me?”

And he opened the piano.

“Ishould much prefer to hear you. Iam tired and weak from travel and anxiety. It would gratify me much if you would consent to let me be the listener.”

Mr.Werner good-naturedly complied, and played, of course, from Beethoven. It was one of those grand sonatas which are the peculiar glory of that great master. The performance was a fine one, and Carlos expressed his approval enthusiastically. Then, on further invitation, he seated himself at the piano and played a short, solemn extract from the same composer.

“You play as well as Ido,” cried Mr.Werner, “or, at least, you have. But you are not in practice.”

“No,” replied Carlos.

“You shall be my pupil,” said Mr.Werner.

“Willingly,” replied Carlos. “Indeed, that must be my excuse for being here, if any inquiries are made.”

“Acapital arrangement,” declared Mr.Werner.

The day was passed very pleasantly. Mr.Werner was a frugal liver, and frequently purchased his own provisions, taking his meals in his room. On this occasion a double supply was bought, which Carlos shared with him. Afterward they had a pleasant smoke and chat together.

About two o’clock Mr.Werner went out to give a lesson, for he already had two pupils, and was patiently waiting for more.

During his absence Carlos found occupation in looking over some piles of music, of which Mr.Werner had a valuable collection, embracing most of the standard compositions, as well as many quaint gems not so well known. Thus employed, the time passed rapidly.

When Mr.Werner returned they talked more, comparing their likes and dislikes in musical matters; and in the evening the same occupation was renewed, varied by playing some duets.

At length, by some casual remarks, each discovered that the other could play chess, and as this was a favorite game with both of them, they were soon absorbed in a friendly contest.

While thus engaged, a knock came at the door. Both players sprang to their feet. They had been so intent on the game that they had not heard any footsteps on the stairs.

Carlos turned pale with an apprehension that naturally rushed on his mind.

Mr.Werner quickly interpreted his expression, and his eyes flashed with excitement.

“Iwill see who it is,” he said.

Opening the door to the extent of a mere crack, he ejaculated a question in German.

Carlos heard a familiar voice say:

“It’s all right. Iwant to see the young man you have caged in here.”

“Vot you say? Ino understand English mooch.”

It must be recollected that all the conversation between Carlos and Mr.Werner had been carried on in German.

The voice rejoined:

“Bring young Conrad to the door, then. He’ll understand me.”

“It is Mr.Duncan,” cried Carlos; and then he added, in German: “Let him in; he is my friend.”

“Ah,” said Mr.Werner, opening the door, “your pardon, Mein Herr.”

Mr.Duncan entered, an unaccountable expression of joy beaming from his face.

He was followed by a solemn, rather seedy-looking gentleman, with gray side-whiskers, who wore spectacles, and carried a cane. Carlos regarded him with a doubtful look.

“Allow me,” said Mr.Duncan, his eyes twinkling, “to introduce you to my friend, the Reverend Mr.Withers. Mr.Withers, this is Mr.Conrad. And this is Mr.Werner.”