of a town--he could only hope that it was S----. Tortured by the vast
oppressiveness of the solitude which lay behind him, peopled by a
thousand ghosts whose persistent footsteps had haunted him through
every mile of his flight, he cried aloud as he stumbled down the rain-
washed hill,--cried with the terror of one who sees collapse after
human valor has been done to death.

He was never to know how he came, in the course of an hour, to the
outskirts of the town. His mind, distracted by the terror of pursuit,
refused to record the physical exertions of that last bitter hour; his
body labored mechanically, without cognizance of the strain put upon
it. He had traversed fifteen miles of the blackest of forests and by
way of the most tortuous of roads. A subconscious triumph now inspired
him, born of the certainty that he had left his enemies far behind. It
was this oddly jubilant spur that drove him safely, almost
instinctively, into the heart of S----. The music of a band both
attracted and bewildered him. It was some time before he could grasp
the fact that a circus was holding forth in the lower end of the town.
The subtle cunning that had become part of his nature within the past
forty-eight hours forbade an incautious approach to the circus
grounds. There, of all places, he might expect to encounter peril. To
his bewildered mind every man who breathed of life was a sleuth sent
forth to lay hold of him.

He gave the circus--loved thing of tenderer days--a wide berth,
finding his way to the railway station by outlying streets. His first
thought was to board an outbound train, to secrete himself in one of
the freight cars. The sudden, overpowering pangs of hunger drove this
plan from his mind, combined with the discovery that no train would
pass through the town before midnight. Disheartened, sick with