Four days later Julius arrived about dusk in the village of Lawrenceburg. There was a citizen of this place against whom Mr. Taylor had given him a note to collect. He put up at the hotel, and after entering his name inquired where Mr. Philip Thompson resided.

“Two miles distant, on the Northcote road,” said the landlord. “Have you business with him?”

Julius answered in the affirmative.

“If you want to go over there after supper, I will send my boy to show you the way.”

“I think I will wait till morning,” said Julius, who felt tired. “My business will wait till then.”

There was a man sitting on the piazza of the tavern when Julius drove up. He was a tall man, rather shabbily built, with a slouching gait, who kept his eyes bent downward, while his face was partly shaded by a soft felt hat. Julius did not notice him, or rather did not do so particularly; but the stranger fixed his eyes eagerly on the boy’s face, and started perceptibly, while a look partly of recognition, partly of hatred, swept over his countenance.

I do not intend to make this man’s personality a mystery.{206} It was Dan Marlowe, the burglar, whom, three years before, Julius had been instrumental in trapping, and who, until within two or three months, had been confined in Sing Sing prison. His escape has already been referred to.

He had now two ends to accomplish. One was to elude capture, the other to revenge himself on Julius.

While in prison he had heard from a fellow-prisoner that Julius was somewhere in the West. He could not ascertain where. Till to-day he had no clew whereby he might discover him; when all at once chance brought him face to face with his young enemy. In spite of his growth he recognized the boy, for he seldom forgot a face; but, to make certainty more certain, he lounged into the office after Julius had recorded his name, and examined the signature.

“Julius Taylor,” he repeated to himself. “The young cub has picked up another name since he left us. But it’s he—it’s the same Julius. I thought I couldn’t be mistaken. His face is the same, though he’s almost twice as large as he was. He little dreams that Dan Marlowe is on his track. I’d like to wring the boy’s neck!” he muttered to himself. “He’s cost me over two years in Sing Sing; and poor Jack’s there yet.”

Having satisfied himself, he went back to his seat on the piazza.

Pretty soon Julius came out, and gave a casual look{207} at Marlowe. But the latter had his hat pulled down over his eyes, and not enough of his features could be seen for our hero to distinguish him. Besides, Julius was not thinking of Marlowe. He had no reason to suspect that his old companion was in the neighborhood. If not caught, he supposed that he was somewhere in hiding in the city of New York, or nearby.

Marlowe did not, however, care to run even a small risk of discovery. He had not changed as much as Julius, and the latter might probably recognize him. So, finding that our hero had also seated himself outside, he quietly arose from his chair, and went out to walk.

“An ill-looking fellow,” thought Julius, casually. “He looks like a tramp.”

Marlowe strolled off at random, not caring where he went. His sole object was to keep out of the way of Julius. He went perhaps a mile, and then, turning into a field, sat down on the grass. Here he remained for a long time. He did not set out on his return till he judged that it was near ten o’clock. When he entered the inn, not Julius alone, but all the other guests had retired; for in the country late hours are not popular.

“We were just going to shut up, Mr. Jones,” said the landlord.

Jones was the assumed name by which Marlowe now passed.{208}

“I went out for a walk,” said, Marlowe, “and didn’t know how time was passing, having no watch with me.”

“You must like walking in the dark better than I do.”

“I wasn’t walking all the time,” said Marlowe. “I had some business on my mind, and went out to think it over. Who was that young fellow that came about six o’clock.

“Julius Taylor. He’s from Brookville. Do you wish to know him? If so, I will introduce you to him.”

“I only asked from curiosity,” said Marlowe, carelessly.

“His room is next to yours, No. 8. Yours is No. 7.”

This was what Marlowe wanted to know, and he heard the information with satisfaction. He proposed to make Julius a visit that night. What might be the result he did not stop to consider. He only knew that this was the boy to whom he owed two years of imprisonment, and that he would have him in his power. He did not ask himself what he should do. He did not consider whether he was about to endanger his own safety, and expose himself to the risk of recapture. His spirit was fierce and revengeful, and he had made up his mind to gratify it.

He called for a light, and ascended the staircase to his room, No. 7. He noticed the number over the door which Julius occupied, and outside he saw a pair of shoes, which had been left to be blacked.{209}

“He’s been prospering,” he said to himself, gloomily, “while Jack and me have been shut up. He’s had a good home, and good fare, and grown up to consider himself a gentleman; while me and Jack, that brought him up, have been confined like wild beasts. That’s his pay for selling us to the cops. But the end is not yet. Marlowe’s on his track, and this night there’ll be a reckoning.”

He sat down on the side of the bed and waited. He wanted to make sure that all were asleep in the inn, that he might carry out his dark designs without interruption.{210}