“And now,” he added, rising, “I thank you, gentlemen, for your kind feeling and listening to my childish talk. I’m an old man, you see; but there’s some of the old stuff left in me still. I start to-morrow morning and I’ll trail him--I’ll trail him like an Injun. I’ve lived mostly in the city since I was a boy, but I used to be pretty good with the old King’s arm and I guess he’ll find I can hit the size of a man yet. Good-night, gentlemen. Good-night, Peter, my boy.” “Mr. Budlong,” said Ira, seizing the old man’s hand, “I will go with you. My revenge is older than yours.” Well out of Vanity Fair, Mr. Ira Waddy! CHAPTER XXIII A VOYAGE OF UNKNOWN LENGTH There will always be a certain number of respectable, but inexperienced and unattractive men whose wives will prefer others more attractive than their husbands, even to the point of infidelity. The wronged husband, who is often not destitute of embryonic manliness, inquires what he is to do, when he is true and his wife is false? “Look you, stranger! There is only one thing to do. You must shoot!” Mr. Budlong did not seem any more like a withered De Flournoy in the pursuit of the fugitives. He was strangely alert, keen, skilful in seizing every clew, but totally indifferent to all other interests. In their long and dismal journeys by day and night, he and Ira Waddy sat side by side; stern, self-possessed, silent save on one single topic, and on that speaking only rarely and of necessity. Travellers for autumn pleasure, travellers returning gaily from gay summerings, saw these two grave, iron men, and were awed by their look of inflexible, deadly purpose. There was a watchful meaning in all their actions. Their monosyllables with each other struck like thrusts of a dagger. At Providence, the fugitives had disappeared. There are many honest couples journeying at that season, and it was impossible to distinguish the dishonest one. Then, too, Belden’s dangerous facility of handwriting made the various names they assumed unrecognisable. He took this precaution before he was aware of pursuit. He became aware of it only by a chance. It was at one of the great railroad centres, where lines of rail interlace each other like a network of nerves. The train with Belden and his companion was just quickening on to speed when a coming train rumbled slowly into the station. Belden was looking from a window and divined why these stern men were leashed together. He saw them and they him: it was a view of a moment and roused them afresh to retrace their steps in unflagging pursuit.