A glance at the inside of these neat little envelopes would have satisfied all doubts upon the question, but with a delicate regard for the privacy of individual correspondence, William would not have opened them for any consideration.

“This is very clever,” said he; “but I am afraid Mrs. Andrews is not quite sharp enough for us this time.  However, we will sleep upon the matter, and see what will turn up by to-morrow.”

The next morning all doubts were set at rest.  Mr. Warner, my son William and myself, were seated in my office discussing this question.  We were unanimous in our opinion that the letter addressed to Newton Edwards was a decoy; and with Everman’s information before us, that Edwards was hiding somewhere in New York state, which began with a “Mac,” all of us were convinced that the second letter alone was deserving of serious attention.

While we were thus debating the question, the mail brought us a report from William Everman at Woodford, that settled all doubts.  Mrs. Edwards, he stated, had been seen to mail a letter that evening, and after a serious effort, Everman had obtained a glance at the address.  It was as follows: 

William Amos,
McDonald,
New York.

“That settles it!” said I; “send at once to McDonald, and my word for it, Edwards will be found.”

Whether I prophesied true or not, will soon be seen.

CHAPTER X.

The Burglar Tracked to His Lair—­The Old Stage Driver—­A Fishing Party—­A Long Wait—­A Sorrowful Surprise—­The Arrest of Newton Edwards.

Our plans were soon completed for a visit to the place indicated by the address upon the two letters.  In the meantime, however, I had telegraphed to the police officials at Denver, and learned from them that no such person as Newton Edwards had been about that place, or was known there at all.  They also promised that if any one called for a letter addressed to that name they would arrest him at once and inform us immediately.

McDonald, I soon learned, was a little village in the central part of New York, remotely situated, and with no railroad or telegraph facilities of any kind.  An excellent hiding-place for a fugitive certainly, particularly, as I suspected, if he had relatives residing there.  Far away from the swift and powerful messengers of steam and electricity, he might safely repose in quiet seclusion until the excitement had died away and pursuit was abandoned.  Such places as these afford a secure harbor for the stranded wrecks of humanity, and many a fleeing criminal has passed years of his life in quiet localities, where he was removed from the toil and bustle, and the prying eyes of the officers of the law in the more populous cities and towns.

Two men were selected for this journey, and their preparations were soon made.  That evening they were flying over the ground in the direction of the little hamlet, where they were hopeful of finding the man they were seeking.