“How did you come here? Where is the old man whose valise I brought from the Albany boat?”
Curtis smiled, and drew from his pocket a gray wig and whiskers.
“You understand now, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir; I understand that I have been got here by a trick.”
“Yes,” answered Curtis, coolly. “I have deemed it wise to use a little stratagem. But you must be hungry. Sit down and eat your supper while I am talking to you.”
Dodger was hungry, for it was past his usual supper time, and he saw no reason why he should not accept the invitation.
Accordingly, he drew his chair up to the table and began to eat. Curtis seated himself on the other chair.
“I have a few questions to ask you, and that is why I arranged this interview. We are quite by ourselves,” he added, significantly.
“Very well, sir; go ahead.”
“Where is my Cousin Florence? I am right, I take it, in assuming that you know where she is.”