At length he reached the vicinity of his old splendors.  The car was stopped, and, resuming his burden, he crossed over to Fifth Avenue, and stood in front of the palace which had been his home.  It was dark at every window.  Where were his wife and children?  Who had the house in keeping?  He was tired, and sat down on the curb-stone, under the very window where Mr. Balfour was at that moment sleeping.  He put his dizzy head between his hands, and whimpered like a sick boy.  “Played out!” said he; “played out!”

He heard a measured step in the distance.  He must not be seen by the watch; so he rose and bent his steps toward Mrs. Dillingham’s.  Opposite to her house, he sat down upon the curb-stone again, and recalled his old passion for her.  The thought of her treachery and of his own fatuitous vanity—­the reflection that he had been so blind in his self-conceit that she had led him to his ruin, stung him to the quick.  He saw a stone at his feet.  He picked it up, and, taking his satchel in one hand, went half across the street, and hurled the little missile at her window.  He heard the crash of glass and a shrill scream, and then walked rapidly off.  Then he heard a watchman running from a distance; for the noise was peculiar, and resounded along the street.  The watchman met him and made an inquiry, but passed on without suspecting the fugitive’s connection with the alarm.

As soon as he was out of the street, he quickened his pace, and went directly to Talbot’s.  Then he rang the door-bell, once, twice, thrice.  Mr. Talbot put his head out of the window, looked down, and, in the light of a street lamp, discovered the familiar figure of his old principal.  “I’ll come down,” he said, “and let you in.”

The conference was a long one, and it ended in both going into the street, and making their way to Talbot’s stable, two or three blocks distant.  There the coachman was roused, and there Talbot gave Mr. Belcher the privilege of sleeping until he was wanted.

Mr. Talbot had assured Mr. Belcher that he would not be safe in his house, that the whole town was alive with rumors about him, and that while some believed he had escaped and was on his way to Europe, others felt certain that he had not left the city.

Mr. Belcher had been a railroad man, and Mr. Talbot was sure that the railroad men would help him.  He would secure a special car at his own cost, on a train that would leave on the following night.  He would see that the train should stop before crossing Harlem Bridge.  At that moment the General must be there.  Mr. Talbot would send him up, to sit in his cab until the train should stop, and then to take the last car, which should be locked after him; and he could go through in it without observation.