"I wish it. There may be a little personal risk; but not more, perhaps, than I incur every day of my life. Perhaps you do not know," he added, gayly, "that I lead a charmed life. Malice and revenge have followed me in a hundred disguises--six times I have escaped poisoned food prepared for me; several times, infernal machines, packed to resemble elegant presents, have been sent to me; thrice I have turned upon the assassin, whose arm was raised to strike--but I have come unscathed out of all danger, to quietly pursue the path to which a vivid sense of duty calls me. I do not believe that I am going to fail in this, one of the most atrocious cases in which I have ever interested myself. No, no, Richard; I enjoy the work--the sense of danger adds to its importance. I would not have it otherwise. As I said, God willing, I will meet you at the isthmus. If I do not keep my appointment, _then_ you may know that harm has come to me; and, after providing for the safe passage home of my little family, you may, if you please, come back to look after the threads of the history which I have dropped. The steamer has cast anchor; I must get my luggage in shape to go ashore." He turned away; but presently paused and returned, with an air of perplexity. "There _will_ be something for you to do, Richard. I had forgotten about that five-hundred-dollar bill, which certainly went to California within a short time after the robbery. If I should be mistaken, after all--but no! my information is too conclusive--I _must_ take the course, now, and if I am on the wrong track, it will be a bad business. However, I will not allow myself to think so," he added, brightening again; "but it will do no harm for you to take a lesson in my art, by exercising your skill in tracing the fortunes of that bank-note. In doing that, you may come upon evidence which, if I fail here, may be turned to use." With a foreboding of evil I looked after him as he descended the ladder to the lower deck--form, face and manner expressing the indomitable energy which made him the man he was. When the sun sunk, that night, into the molten waves of the Pacific, Lenore and I paced the deck alone; and as she quietly wiped away the tears which fell at the sense almost of desertion which her father's sudden departure caused, I could hardly cheer her, as he had bidden me; for I, too, felt the melancholy isolation of our position--voyaging to a strange land in the wake of an awful mystery. CHAPTER V. ON THE TRAIL.