"Yes, I believe I have heard of him. He has an office on Broadway, hasn't he?" "No, on Wall Street." "Did you ever work for him?" "No; but an acquaintance of mine did," said Bowman carelessly. "He's got a pile of money, I expect." "Very likely. Most bankers have, haven't they?" "I suppose so, but they're not in my line. I used to be a dry goods clerk." "In New York?" "No, in Baltimore." "I don't know anything about Baltimore." If Bowman at any time entertained any suspicions about Fred they were dissipated by his next remark. "I might like to go to Baltimore to work. Would you recommend me to the firm you used to work for?" "I believe they have gone out of business, but you'd better stick to New York, youngster. There's better chances there than in Baltimore." The gong for dinner now sounded, and as their tramp through the snow had given them both good appetites, they lost no time in answering its summons. When dinner was over Bowman asked: "What are you going to do with yourself this afternoon?" "I promised to call on your friend in the cottage. Will you go with me?" "Not I. I can fill up my time more agreeably. You will find it awfully stupid." "Very likely; but I like to keep my promises." "The landlord's going to ride to Hyacinth, about ten miles away, on business. He's invited me to ride with him. I wish there were room in the sleigh for you." "I can put that off till another time. I hope you will have a pleasant ride." "It will fill up the time, anyway." "Have you any message to your partner?" asked Fred, as he stood ready to start on his walk. "No. Tell him to get well as fast as he can, so that we can get away from this beastly place. That's all." James Sinclair was lying on the bed with a look of weariness on his face when Fred pushed open the outer door and entered. Sinclair's face brightened up. "You didn't forget your promise, Mr. Fenton?" lie said. "No, I always keep my promises when I can." "You are very kind to a poor sick man. You have no idea how long the hours seem in this quiet cottage with no one to look at or speak to but Claudine." "I can imagine it." "And Claudine understands very little English. Most of the people in St. Victor, as I suppose you know, are French." "I judged this from the signs over the shops." "Very few English-speaking people find their way here. It is for this reason that I was somewhat surprised to see you here." "I should not have come here," returned Fred pointedly, "if you had not been here." "You came here to see me?" ejaculated Sinclair in excitement. "Yes." "Then you must come from Mr. Wainwright." "Yes, I come from him in response to the letter which he received from you." "Thank God!" said Sinclair, fervently. CHAPTER XXXI. FRED HAS AN UNDERSTANDING WITH SINCLAIR. "Mr. Wainwright showed me the letter you wrote to him," went on Fred. "Excuse me," said Sinclair, looking puzzled, "but you seem very young to be taken into Mr. Wainwright's confidence."