At ten o’clock Oliver retired. He was quite worn out, but the strangeness of his situation caused him to sleep but little. At seven o’clock he was dressed and at the desk.
“Colonel Mendix has sent word that his baggage be taken to the depot,” said the clerk. “He took the train last night for the West.”
CHAPTER IX.
ON THE STEAMER.
Oliver Bright was so taken aback by the announcement that Colonel Mendix had left New York that he hardly knew what to do. Since the day before he had calculated upon having a talk with the Spanish gentleman, and hoped to gain some important knowledge without revealing his own identity.
But now that chance was lost. The colonel had gone, and it was not likely that the two would meet this side of San Francisco.
“Took the train last night?” he repeated slowly.
“Yes, sir,” replied the clerk. “Did you wish to see him very much?”
“I did indeed. What time did the train start?”
“At nine fifteen.”