The arrangement was speedily concluded. The witnesses and the officers were paid off. Charlton received his fifty dollars and Peek his twenty-five. The slave then asked for pen, ink, and paper, and placed five cents on the table as payment. In two minutes he finished a letter to Flora, and enclosed it with the money in an envelope, on which he wrote an address. Charlton tried hard to get a sight of it, but Peek did not give him a chance to do this. The Colonel and Peek then walked to the post-office, where the slave deposited his letter; after which they passed over to Jersey City in the ferry-boat, and took the train to Philadelphia. As for Charlton, no sooner had his company left him, than he seized his hat, locked up his office, and hurried to Greenwich Street, where he proceeded to examine the lodgings vacated by Peek. He found Mrs. Petticum engaged in collecting into baskets the various articles abandoned to her by the negroes,—old dusters, a hod of charcoal, kindling-wood, loaves of bread, and small collections of groceries, sufficient for the family for a week. Mrs. Petticum appeared to have been weeping, for she raised her apron and wiped her eyes as Charlton came in. “Well, have they gone?” asked he. “Yes, sir, and the wuss for me!” said the old woman. Charlton took his cue at once, and replied: “They were excellent people, and I’m sorry they’ve gone. What was the matter? Were the slave-catchers after them?” “I don’t know,” sighed Petticum; “I shouldn’t wonder. Poor Flora! That was all she worried about. I’d like to have got my hands in the hair of the man that would have carried her off. Where’ll you find the white folks better and decenter than they was?” “Not in New York, ma’am,” said Charlton, stealthily looking about the room, examining every article of furniture, and opening the drawers. “The furniture belongs to Mr. Craig; but all in the drawers is mine,” said the old woman, not favorably impressed by Charlton’s inquisitiveness. “O, it’s all right,” replied Charlton; “I didn’t know but I could be of some help. You’ve no idea where they went to?” “They didn’t tell me, and if I knowed, I shouldn’t tell you, without I knowed they wanted me to.” “O, it’s no sort of consequence. I’m a particular friend, that’s all,” said Charlton. “Did you notice the carriage they went off in?” “Yes, I did.” “Could you tell me the number?” “No, I couldn’t.” Seeing an old handkerchief in one of the baskets, Charlton took it out, and looked at the mark. He could get nothing from that; so he threw it back. An old shoe lay swept in a corner. He took it up. Stamped on the inner sole were the words, “J. Darling, Ladies’ Shoes, Vicksburg.” Charlton copied the inscription in his memorandum-book before putting the shoe back where he had found it. The Sun newspaper lay on the floor. Taking it up, he found that an advertisement had been cut out. Selecting an opportunity when Mrs. Petticum was not looking, he thrust the paper in his pocket.