ressman, and returned to the wharf-boat to look after Maroney's
trunk. He saw that the trunk was still where it had been left, and on
going on board of the steamer, found that most of the passengers had
taken advantage of their long stay, and were visiting in the town. Roch
took a seat on the wharf-boat, near the office. He puffed away at his
pipe for some time, staring vacantly around, when he heard a carriage
rattling down the hill. In a moment it stopped, and looking up Roch saw
Maroney almost leaning over him and conversing with a gentleman in the
office.

"Are you the agent of Jones's Express?" he asked.

"Yes," replied the gentleman.

"I thought your office was up the hill. Have you received a package
for --------?" (Roch did not catch the name.)

The gentleman looked over his book, and said:

"No, nothing; but it may have been detained in the New Orleans office."

This was the substance of the conversation.

Maroney went into the office and remained some five minutes, then came
out, and seemed debating some subject in his mind.

The first bell of the Walsh was rung. He hurriedly ordered his trunk on
board, and embarked, closely followed by Roch, "mit his satchel." They
proceeded quietly on their journey until they reached New Orleans, where
Maroney secured a hack and was driven to the City Hotel. He passed the
day walking around, lost in thought, and studying some subject deeply.

During the day Roch concluded that Maroney was going to make a decided
move. But what would it be? He had no one to advise him; none from whom
he could seek counsel, and he was at a loss what to do.

In this strait he telegraphed to me, in Chicago, detailing his
predicament, and asking instructions. He was much surprised at receiving
an answer from Philadelphia, where I then was. I telegraphed him in
cipher, congratulating him on his success so far, and told him not to
mind the loss of his baggage; but to change his disguise, and rig
himself up as a dashing Southerner. Accordingly, the first thing in the
morning, he took a bath, had had his face clean shaven, and, going to
the clothing and other furnishing stores, soon procured a fashionable
outfit.

When he was dressed in his new clothes, what a metamorphosis had he
made, from the clod-hopping Dutchman to the gay, genteel and courteous
citizen! I telegraphed to him that I thought success was almost in his
grasp, and to keep a constant lookout.

He took a room in the City