His friend was in such polite haste to be gone that he shuffled and plunged awkwardly on his gaitered feet, fairly stumbling over his portmanteau near the door as he opened it; then he went down the hall with a brisk, elastic step. Julius lay dumfounded, staring at the portmanteau, which was of an English make and bore the letters, J. Wray, Manchester, England, on one side. He rose and turned it about. It had not been hastily arranged to mislead him. The lettering had been done long ago. The receptacle was evidently travel-worn, and stamped deep in the bottom was the makers' name, trunk manufacturers, Manchester, England. Julius dressed in haste, his heart once more agitated with the hope of deliverance. He could hardly control his nerves, his eager desire that this might prove merely an odd coincidence, instead of a detective's deep-laid scheme. It began to seem that the man's name might be really John Wray of Manchester, England, some army jobber, or speculator, perhaps--the country was full of them. He said he had expected to meet an "agent of the company," who knew the country. "_I_ know the country," said Julius, capably; "I know the country to a t-y ty. I can give him all the information he wants, free, gratis, and for nothing." Yet in naught, he resolved, would he betray himself. This mistake, on the contrary, might open to him some means of getting through the lines and back to his command with this map--this precious plan of the defences of the place that would be of distinct value to the cause of the Confederacy. He therefore cast aside his half-formulated scheme of seeking escape from the supposed detective through the street. He had remembered that there were stairs on the galleries, leading from one floor to another, and thence to the quadrangle, as well as the great main staircase from the hallways into the office. He at last took his way, however, down this main staircase, with its blatant publicity, and its shifting groups of Federal officers and busy, newly imported civilians. He recognized the wisdom of his boldness almost immediately. Mr. John Wray of Manchester, England, standing conferring amicably with a cluster of worthies of that marked commercial aspect, alertness, and vim of expression, which imply the successful business man of the heady, venturesome type, since known as "plungers," turned and perceived him, and catching his eye beckoned to him with great empressement. "Allow me, gentlemen, to introduce Mr. John Wray, Junior--the son of my cousin, John Wray," he said. There ensued the usual greetings, the usual stir of hand-shaking, and if any eye in the office had chanced to note the newcomer with the faint suggestion of doubt or interest or suspicion, which a stranger is apt to excite, it evaporated at once, for the elder Mr. Wray was well known in the hotel and the town, having been here often before, and was a very sufficient voucher for any kinsman.