"You don't know whether he has any friends anywhere in the Confederacy to whom he would be likely to go?"
"I don't know about friends, sir; but I know he has told me he was overseer, or partner, or something of that sort, in a small station down in the swamps of South Carolina. I should think, from things he has let drop, that the slaves must have had a bad time of it. I rather fancy he made the place too hot for him, and had to leave; but that was only my impression."
"In that case he may possibly have made his way back there," Vincent said. "I have particular reasons for wishing to find out. You don't know anything about the name of the place?" The man shook his head.
"He never mentioned the name in my hearing."
"Well, I must try to find out, but I don't quite see how to set about it," Vincent said. "By the way, do you know where his clothes were sent to?"
"Yes; the man said that he was to take them to Harker's Hotel. It's a second-rate hotel not far from the railway station."
"Thank you. That will help me. I know the house. It was formerly used by
Northern drummers and people of that sort."
After riding back to Richmond and putting up his horse, Vincent went to the hotel there. Although but a secondary hotel it was well filled, for people from all parts of the Confederacy resorted to Richmond, and however much trade suffered, the hotels of the town did a good business. He first went up to the clerk in a little office at the entrance.
"You had a man named Pearson," he said, "staying here about a month ago.
Will you be good enough to tell me on what day he left?"
The clerk turned to the register, and said after a minute's examination: