I had no difficulty in obtaining sufficient to live upon from day to day. Assistance and food poured into the city from all parts of the States, and already upon the burning ruins men were beginning to rebuild their stores and houses. Every pair of hands was valuable, and I worked with the rest, never for a moment losing sight of the vital mission upon which I was engaged. For a month I remained in Chicago, and having by that time earned enough money to carry me to New York, and being also satisfied that I had exhausted every channel open to me through which I might hear of or from my father, I took the train back, and in thirty-six hours reached the hotel in New York from which my father had addressed his letters to me. It appeared as if I had taken the right step, for on the very day of my arrival I saw among the "Personals" in the _New York Herald_ the following advertisement: "F.H.--The day before you leave America for England advertise in the _Herald's_ Personal column the name of the ship in which you have taken your passage. It is of the utmost importance. Implicit silence until we meet." Mysterious as was this communication, it afforded me satisfaction. My father, doubtless, had his own good reasons for the course he was pursuing, but it hurt me that he had not, by a few words which I alone could have understood, removed from me the obligation entailed upon me by my solemn oath to pass myself off under a false name. Until he asked my forgiveness, or acknowledged his error, I could not resume my own. I entered the hotel, and there another surprise awaited me. My father had, during my absence in Chicago, lived at the hotel for nearly a fortnight. In an interview with the manager, I was informed that the description my father had received of my personal appearance had much excited him. "I could not give him your name," said the manager, "as you did not leave any. He made inquiries for you everywhere, and employed detectives to discover you, but they were not successful. He appeared as anxious to see you as you were to see him." "He has been to Chicago, has he not?" I asked. "He was there at the time of the fire, and stopped at the Briggs' House?" "Not to my knowledge," replied the manager. "He has not spoken of it; and it is one of the things a man _would_ speak of. Such a scene as that!--and the Briggs' House burnt to the ground, too! No, I don't think Mr. Holdfast went to Chicago." I made no comment upon this; doubtless my father did not wish his movements to be too widely known. "Where is Mr. Holdfast now?" I inquired. "Very near Liverpool," was the reply. "He left in the Germanic this day week. There is a letter in the office for you which I was to deliver into your hands in case you called. No one else could do so, as you see no name is on the envelope, and as no other person but myself could identify you."