He knew George Anderson's haunts, he said, and from a chance word accidentally overheard, he thought he had a clew, and might succeed in finding him. There was something so modest and self-reliant in the young man's manner as he spoke that, after a searching glance at him, Mr. Huntingdon agreed to leave the matter in his hands, only bidding him not to let the young villain escape, as he certainly meant to punish him. Many were the incidents that befell Maurice and his companion in this his first and last detective case; but at last, thanks to his sagacity and the unerring instinct of the officer, they were soon on the right track, and before night had very far advanced were hanging about a low public-house in Liverpool, lurking round corners and talking to stray sailors. And the next morning they boarded the "Washington," bound for New York, that was to loose anchor at the turn of the tide; and while Staunton, the detective, was making inquiries of the captain about the steerage passengers, Maurice's sharp eyes had caught sight of a young sailor with a patch over his eye, apparently busy with a coil of ropes, and he walked up to him carelessly; but as he loitered at his side a moment his manner changed. "Don't look round, George," he whispered; "for Heaven's sake keep to the ropes or you are lost. Slip the pocket-book in my hand, and I will try and get the detective out of the boat." "Would it be penal servitude, Maurice?" muttered the lad, and his face turned a ghastly hue at the thought of the human blood-hound behind him. "Five or ten years at least," returned Maurice. "Were you mad, George? Give it to me--quick--quick! and I will put him on the wrong scent. That's right," as the shaking hands pushed a heavy brown pocket-book toward him. "Good-by, George; say your prayers to-night, and thank God that you are saved." "Staunton," he said, aloud, as the detective approached him, "we are wrong; he is in the bow of the 'Brown Bess,' and he sails in the 'Prairie Flower;'" and as he uttered the first lie that he had ever told in his guileless young life Maurice looked full in the detective's face and led him quietly away. But a couple of hours later--when Staunton was losing his temper over their want of success, and the "Washington" was steaming out of the dock--Maurice suddenly produced the pocket-book, and proposed that they should take the next train back for London. "For I am very tired," finished Maurice, with provoking good-humor; "and Mr. Huntingdon will sleep better to-night if we give him back his five thousand pounds." "You let the rogue go!" exclaimed Staunton, and he swore savagely. "You have cheated justice and connived at his escape."