SEVERAL persons were standing near Tom, but no one who looked like his nocturnal acquaintance of Wilton.

“I suppose I am ahead of time,” thought our hero.

Just then a well-dressed gentleman, swinging a light bamboo cane, approached and tapped Tom lightly on the arm.

“I see you are on hand my young friend,” said the new-comer.

Tom glanced quickly at the man who had spoken to him.

He saw a gentleman, handsomely dressed, with a heavy gold chain depending from his waistcoat, and having every appearance of a man not only well-to-do, but rich.

“Haven’t you made a mistake, sir?” he asked, in a puzzled manner.

“No, I think not. You are Thomas Thatcher, from Wilton, are you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you don’t remember me?”

“Surely, you are not——”

85

“Darius Darke, at your service. So you didn’t know me?”

“No, sir; you don’t look much like the man I saw in Wilton the night of the fire.”

“Speak low,” said the other. “I don’t care, for reasons of my own, to be identified as that man. We must continue our conversation in a place more retired. Come up to my room;” and he turned to enter the hotel.

“Do you live here?” asked Tom, amazed, for to live in the Astor House, as he understood, required a long purse.

“Yes; follow me.”

He led the way up-stairs, and introduced Tom into a pleasant room on the third floor.

“Now, sit down, Thomas, and make yourself at home. Confess, you are surprised at my transformation?”

“I certainly am, sir.”

“Did you expect to see the same disreputable-looking tramp who appeared to you on that eventful evening?”

“Well, not exactly, sir, for your sending me the ten-dollar bill—for which I thank you—showed that you must have improved in your circumstances.”

“But you were not prepared for quite so great a change?” said Darius Darke, as he drew out a handsome gold watch and noted the time.

“No, sir; but then, of course, I knew very little about you.”

“You thought I was burned with the old barn, eh?”

86 “Yes.”

“How did John Simpson account to his neighbors for the fire?”

“He said he had let you sleep in the barn, and neglected to caution you about smoking. He thought you had set the building on fire in that way.”

Darius Darke laughed grimly.

“John Simpson is a crafty man,” he said, “but he overreached himself this time, or perhaps I should say that I overreached him. My young friend, I may say to you that I have not smoked for years—certainly, I did not smoke on that eventful night.”

“Then how did the barn catch fire?” asked Tom, a good deal puzzled.

“It was set on fire.”

“Did you——”

“No, I did not set the barn on fire; I could have no object in doing it. The fire was kindled by John Simpson himself.”

“Do you mean it?” asked Tom, his eyes wide open with surprise.

“Yes, I mean it.”

“But why should he want to burn down his own property?”

“He wanted to burn me up in it,” answered Darius, coolly.

“Why should he be so wicked?” asked Tom, more and more surprised.

“Hark you, my young friend, John Simpson is a much more wicked and desperate man than you have an87 idea of. He has reasons for wishing to get me out of the way. I know a secret of his which may give him trouble.”

“How did you escape, Mr. Darke?”

Darius Darke explained to Tom how he had been induced to change his bed and remove to the stable. He explained furthermore how he had chanced to see Mr. Simpson setting fire to the building.

“I understood at once his motive,” continued Mr. Darke, “and I resolved to watch the issue of this act. When the building was in flames, and the crowd around it, I saw all from the stable where I was safely hidden. It was not till all was over, and the crowd had dispersed, that I ventured to leave my retreat, and take up my line of march from the ............