"Well, then, what if I am going, Mike? The world is big and full of opportunities, and I am tired of this--I really am." "But why leave like this, sir?" Mike demanded, gently. "Surely you won't go without telling your folks of it and saying good-by! Why, this note to your brother looks as if--as if--" "Well, I do want to slip away, Mike, and I'm going like a thief in the night. You will understand to-morrow. Everybody in Boston will. As for that, Mike, a drinking-man will do many things that he ought not to do, and--and I handle money at the bank. Don't push me further now. Let's drop it. I have to go, and that settles it." Michael failed to understand, for he was thinking of something else. "You will need the money I owe you, sir, and I've been trying to get it up. I see a chance now, sir. My sister out West feels that she owes at least half of that debt to you, and her husband has been doing well. She wrote me--" "Drop that, Mike," Charles cried. "I don't need that money. You shall never pay it--never. I've given that to your mother, do you understand, not to you, but to her?" "It shall not be that way, sir," the other pleaded. "I will send it to you. But as for your doing anything wrong at the bank"--Charles's statement was dawning on him slowly--"nobody on earth could make me think so." "Well, never mind about that, Mike. The fact is that I must go--now and at once. Let me out at the front door." "Do you want a cab, sir?" "A cab?" Charles smiled. "Not to-night. In fact, I am going through the darkest streets I can get into. I know every alley in this old town. Good-by, Mike. Deliver the note to my brother in the morning." CHAPTER VI It was near midnight when he reached the station. He had met no one on the way whom he knew. He was tired and his arm ached from the weight of the bag, for he had taken a long, roundabout way to avoid being seen. Few persons were at the station, for it was not a popular train that he was to take. He bought his ticket at the little window, glad that the clerk was too busy to look up as he pushed the exact fare in to him. This done, he took up his bag and hastened for the train. He sought the smoking-car, feeling that he would be less conspicuous there than in the coaches set aside for the accommodation of women and children. He had the car almost to himself and was glad of the fact. Seated in one corner, he lighted a cigar. Somehow he was impatient for the train to move. He was not guilty of the crime he had shouldered, but he had a guilty man's fear of detection at that moment. He almost felt as if he and William were identical, for, after all, would not William's arrest and exposure have been quite as painful to him? The train did not start. He was becoming seriously alarmed now. He went to a window and looked out. An attendant with a lantern stood close by. "What is the delay?" Charles asked.