Tiffles, being a man of infinite expedients, and accustomed to solve problems for himself, and everybody else, at the shortest notice, answered at once: 

“Not by advertising for her, or putting the police on her track.  Young Van Quintem would take the alarm, and move her out of town.  She will go anywhere with him, if I mistake not, until she finds him out better.  Have you no clue to her whereabouts; or can you think of any one that could give us any information?”

Mrs. Crull reflected.  “Unless I am much mistaken,” said she, “I saw that tall, clean-looking boy, Bog, I believe they call him—­you remember him at the inquest—­walking on t’other side o’ the street, two or three times since Pet come to live with me.  He looked sideways and kind o’ sheepish at the house as he passed.  I’ve a notion that he was a lover of Pet’s, too.”

“He’s the man, or boy, for us!” cried Tiffles.  “Is in the bill-posting business, and knows the town better than I do, if anything.  A shrewd fellow, judging from his looks; and, if he’s in love with Miss Minford, then he’s sure never to tire of hunting her up.  He must disguise himself, and find young Van Quintem, and follow him day and night, till he brings up at Miss Minford.  That’s the shortest road.  When Miss Minford has been found, then we will consider what is to be done next.”

Mrs. Crull and Overtop at once approved of this plan, and no time was lost in putting it into execution.

CHAPTER V.

BOG’S OPEN SESAME.

Bog was easily found, and gladly consented to do the work allotted to him.  It was agreed that he should conduct the search alone, and in his own way; but that, after he had succeeded in tracing Miss Minford to her place of concealment, he should send word, without delay, to Mrs. Crull, and also to old Van Quintem, whose advice upon the subject had been obtained.  It was thought that the reasoning and entreaties of the two together would win back the poor girl from the path of danger which she was unconsciously treading.

Bog disguised himself by putting on his old, discarded working clothes; and, as he looked at his reflection in the glass, thought how much truth there was in the maxim, that “fine feathers make fine birds.”

“Go, my good boy,” old Van Quintem had said to him, in faltering accents; “go among the gambling houses, and other dens of infamy, and you will surely hear of my son.”

Acting on this advice—­which confirmed his own opinion—­Bog proceeded to visit the gambling houses on Broadway.  Child of the city as he was, he knew the locations of them all.  His constant travels about town, day and night, had made him a master of all this knowledge, and much more of the sort, which is only useful when, as in the case of this poor orphan boy, it serves to show where evil must be avoided, not sought.  Thus the pilot, taking his vessel through Hellgate, profits by his knowledge of the rocks and the shallows, to steer clear of all dangers, and come safely into port.