In thirty-six hours the young detective found himself domiciled in a quiet little hotel, the Mount Vernon, on the wharf of the Ohio River, at Evansville, Indiana.  He selected this house because of its retired location.  He knew that it was just as necessary for him to keep out of the sight of the man he sought as it was for the thief to keep outside the pale of his vision.  He easily found the photograph gallery of Markham, but nothing of a satisfactory nature developed.  True, the negative was at last found with a number 1,761 upon it, but no name, and the artist didn’t so much as remember the face.

The hotel registers were next inspected without giving any clue.  Now the young detective quietly took account of the evidence in his possession.  What did he have to justify the arrest of James Thurston even in case he found him?  And should he effect his arrest, the difficulty of extradition was still to be met and overcome.  Could that be accomplished with the amount of evidence in hand?

He determined, in his uncertainty, to seek the advice of the British Consul, Mr. Harris, residing at Louisville, Kentucky, and accordingly he repaired to that city on the following day.  The Consul recognized Worth’s credentials and treated him with cordiality.  When the detective had stated the case he said:  “Mr. Worth, you can’t arrest a man because he was not drowned, although rumor said that he was.  What has such an incident to do with a bank robbery?  It is hardly fair to connect a man’s name with a crime merely because he happened to disappear about the time the crime was committed.  Suppose a young man did leave England suddenly and secretly, and come to America?  Maybe it was not that kind of a case at all.  Could not even some unsuccessful love affair on the Continent have caused his abrupt departure, rather than the robbery of a bank?  Mere suspicion is not sufficient to secure a man’s extradition.  No doubt your own good judgment will guard you against any hasty action, which could,” he concluded, significantly, “prove a rather costly proceeding in the end.”

Worth left the Consul’s office somewhat cast down.  He asked himself what next?  Should he give it up?  If he quietly returned, none but the Major would be any wiser.

Next day was Sunday and, back in Evansville, he wended his way to a popular church—­Trinity—­where the most fashionable people were said to attend.  The structure was modern and capacious, seating about twelve hundred.  The weather was fine and the audience filled the room.  The music was good and the service pleasing, but the sermon was too long for Worth.  He had slipped into a seat near the door, from which position he could secure a better general view of the people.  Job at this time had a not overly vivid recollection of the man he sought, nor a precise idea of what his course would be should he find him.  It was more than a year now since he had seen him, and then it was in a crowded hall in the midst of commencement exercises.