Dear Warman:—I must write in great haste, for in an hour I leave for New York. It is quite unexpected. I expect the Milwaukee party here in a quarter of an hour to go with me.
In all probability I shall not be back to Denver before the first of May, if then,—for, being in New York, I shall probably stop and attend to some other matters.
I wrote you last night, and now I want to correct the impressions of that letter.
When does one ever hear the last word of a bad story. That fellow Ketchum is even more of an all-round scoundrel than I thought. I have heard a lot about him to-day; ran upon a man who was his head book-keeper and confidential man here in his heyday, and whom he robbed, as he has everybody else who has had anything to do with him. I was out looking up Parsons among the brokers’ offices. He has been a sort of fly-about these last years, into this, that, and every little pitiful scheme, to turn a dollar, and having a desk always in the office of the latest man he could interest in his projects, so he is about as hard to find as the proverbial needle in the hay-mow.
Nobody is specially interested in keeping track of him, now that he is down.
Well, in my hunt, I ran upon a Mr. Filmore who told me where he boards—a cheap and shabby place, poor fellow. He was not there; hasn’t been for two weeks or more. Landlady surmised he had gone to join his family somewhere out West—in California, she guessed—didn’t know when he would be back; didn’t know that he would ever be back. Oh, yes, she supposed he would be back some time,—no, he hadn’t left any address to have his mail forwarded. The purveyor of hash supposed Mr. Parsons received his mail at his office—he certainly did not receive any there. Was I a detective? Had Mr. Parsons been getting into trouble? Oh, Cy, the misery of being very poor after having been very rich! The Lord deliver me from it! Poor Parsons, one of the finest and proudest of gentlemen, to be spoken of in such a tenor at the street door of a cheap boarding-house!
Is it any wonder his brave, good little girl is frantic to do something to help him onto his feet again and out of such an atmosphere?
He may be in Colorado; and if he is, you may be called upon to record the sudden death of that scamp Ketchum, any day.
