article of his latest social creed, and a plunge
into primordial chaos in the matter of theories, out of which he could
emerge only as a criminal in fact.

When the conflict of indetermination became altogether insupportable, he
put it aside with the resolution which was the strong thread in the
loosely twisted warp of his character and forced himself to think
concretely toward a solution of the problem of flight. The possession of
the money made all things possible--in any field save the
theoretical--and the choice of dwelling or hiding-places seemed
infinite.

His first thought had been to go back to New York. But there the risk of
detection would be greater than elsewhere, and he decided that there was
no good reason why he should incur it. Besides, he argued, there were
other fields in which the sociological studies could be pursued under
conditions more favorable than those to be found in a great city. In his
mind's eye he saw himself domiciled in some thriving interior town,
working and studying among people who were not unindividualized by an
artificial environment. In such a community theory and practice might go
hand in hand; he could know and be known; and the money at his command
would be vastly more of a moulding and controlling influence than it
could possibly be in the smallest of circles in New York. The picture,
struck out upon the instant, pleased him, and having sufficiently
idealized it, he adopted it enthusiastically as an inspiration, leaving
the mere geographical detail to arrange itself as chance, or subsequent
events, might determine.

That part of the problem disposed of, there yet remained the choice of a
line of flight; and it was a small thing that finally decided the manner
of his going. For the third time in the hour of aimless wanderings he
found himself loitering opposite the berth of the _Belle Julie_, an
up-river steamboat whose bell gave sonorous warning of the approaching
moment of departure. Toiling roustabouts, trailing in and out like an
endless procession of human ants, were hurrying the last of the cargo
aboard. Griswold stood to look on. The toilers were negroes, most of
them, but with here and there among the blacks and yellows a paler face
so begrimed with sweat and dust as to be scarcely distinguishable from
the majority. The sight moved Griswold, as thankless toil always did;
and he fell to contrasting the hard lot of the laborers with that of the
group of passengers look