Mr. Peake started. This was unexpected intelligence.
"What brings him to New York?" he inquired hastily.
"I do."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I wrote him some time since for a hundred pounds. He sent me five pounds and told me that I needn't call on him again."
"He doesn't seem much afraid of you."
"No; he thought the boy was dead."
"I suppose you told him so?"
"I let him think that the boy had died of fever four years ago. That made him feel safe, and he concluded that he had no more use for Jane Gilman. He'll find out!" and Jane tossed her head, in an independent manner.