"No; he is in New York."
"When is he coming home?"
"Never, if I can prevent it," returned Squire Paget, earnestly. "He wrote to his mother, but I got the letter. She does not even know he is alive."
"And he is in New York?" said Martin, looking suggestively at the squire.
"He is, Martin."
"I might go down there——"
"That is what I thought."
"I can go alone. Toglet is too chicken-hearted for this business. I know he wishes he was out of it. If he hadn't been in it from the start there would have been no failure."
"Then go alone, but lose no time, for he may write more letters, and one of them may slip through my hands. Now he has disappeared, I do not wish him to be heard of again."
"But he has a friend in New York."