y plight, and ill treated by his companion in
crime, but also because he was clearly the less guilty of the two, and
seemed disposed to make amends to the man whom he had wronged.

James Sinclair, unprepared for the advent of a boy, regarded him with
surprise.

"Who is this?" he asked.

"My name is Fred Fenton," answered the train boy, remembering that
Bowman was as yet ignorant of his name.

"He is a guest at the inn," explained Bowman carelessly. "He arrived
to-night. He will be some company for me in this dull hole. We were
playing a game of billiards when Claudine broke in and told me you
wanted to see me. I expected to find you at the point of death," he
finished impatiently.

"That may come sooner than you think," said Sinclair. "May I ask where
you come from, young man?" he added, in a tone of suppressed eagerness
which Fred well understood.

"I come from New York," answered the boy, trying to throw a degree of
significance into this brief answer.

"From New York!" said Sinclair, in some excitement, and trying to read
in Fred's face whether he was the expected messenger. "You have come
for your health, I suppose?"

"Not exactly for that, for my health is always good, but I thought it
might be a pleasant place to spend an unexpected holiday that has been
granted me."

"Pleasant!" repeated Bowman scornfully. "If you can find anything
pleasant at St. Victor, you will have greater luck than I."

"Is Claudine in the kitchen?" asked the sick man. "Claudine!" he
called, raising his voice.

"Yes, monsieur," answered the little handmaid, appearing at the door.

"Go to the baker's and buy a loaf of bread. Here is money. Is there any
tea left?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Then buy a cupful of milk and half a pound of sugar. I am almost
famished. A cup of tea and some toast will put new life into me."

Claudine departed on her errand, and Sinclair once more fixed his eyes
on Fred. There was a question he very much wished to ask, but in
Bowman's presence he could not do it safely.

CHAPTER XXIX.

FRED TAKES THE FIRST STEP.

"And so you come from New York?" Sinclair repeated, for the want of
something better to say.

"When did you leave the city, may I ask?"

"On Tuesday."

"Then you came directly here?"

"Yes, I came directly here."

"You must then have heard of St. Victor before starting."

"Yes."

"Yet I fancy it is so obscure that its existence can be known to very
few in the great city."