"And so you come from New York?" Sinclair repeated, for the want of something better to say.

"When did you leave the city, may I ask?"

"On Tuesday."

"Then you came directly here?"

"Yes, I came directly here."

"You must then have heard of St. Victor before starting."

"Yes."

"Yet I fancy it is so obscure that its existence can be known to very few in the great city."

"I presume you are right. I was recommended to come here by a friend."

"Ah!" commented James Sinclair, beginning to think he was right, though it seemed to him very strange that Mr. Wainwright should have selected so young a messenger. "I should like to see New York once more."

"Who wouldn't?" interposed Bowman impatiently. "In New York you can live. Here in St. Victor one can only vegetate."

"Don't you expect to go back to New York some day, Mr. Sinclair?" asked Fred.

"I don't know; I hope so."

"When our business in Canada is completed," said Bowman, "we shall probably both go back."

"Are you going to sleep here to-night, Bowman?" asked Sinclair.

"No, I think not. I have taken a room in the hotel."

"You must do as you like, of course, but it is lonely for me. Besides I might need assistance."

"Let the girl stay here, then. I should make a miserable sick nurse. I will ask young Fenton, here, if it is reasonable to expect me to bury myself in such a cheerless place when it will do no good."

Fred was disgusted with the man's selfishness. "If I had a friend sick," he said, "I think I would be quite willing to keep him company."

"You say so now, but wait till the time comes."

"Your words, Mr. Fenton," said Sinclair, "embolden me to ask you a favor."

"Name it," said Fred, in a tone of kindly encouragement.

"I spend all my time alone, except when Claudine is ministering to my wants. Your time is hardly likely to be very much occupied in this dull place. Can't you spare me an hour or two at your convenience during the day?"

"You have promised to go hunting with me tomorrow," interrupted Bowman.

"That is true. I will go with you in the forenoon, and in the afternoon I will call on Mr. Sinclair."

Bowman shrugged his shoulders.

"It is a rash promise. You will be sorry for having made it."

"I will risk that," answered Fred.

Sinclair gave him a grateful glance. The promise cheered him, and kindled hopes in his breast. Now he would have a chance of learning, when alone with Fred, whether he came as a messenger from Mr. Wainwright. If so, and through his means he could make restitution and regain his place and lost character, he would still have something to live for. He execrated his folly in weakly submitting to the guidance of Paul Bowman, and for having taken that first step in crime, which is so difficult to retrace.

"Don't forget your promise," he said earnestly as Fred rose to go.

"I won't fail you," replied Fred quietly.

"You're in for it now," remarked Bowman, as they started to walk home. "You might as well turn sick nurse at once as give up your time to Sinclair."

"I might be sick sometime myself," said Fred, "and in that case I should be sorry to be left alone."

"Oh, well, suit yourself," said Bowman carelessly. "I'd rather it would be you than me, for that matter. I shall expect you to go out to the woods with me in the forenoon."

"All right!"

"Well," thought Fred, as he slipped into bed at ten o'clock, "I've made a beginning. I have formed the acquaintance of both parties to the robbery. The next step will be more difficult."