He soon had it secured, and then boldly got out of the window and swung off. In a minute he was by the side of his friend.
"How do ye feel now?" asked the good woman, in a tone of sympathy.
"Better," said Julius.
"What made them lock ye up?"
"They didn't think I'd want to go out till mornin'. Good-bye, Mrs. O'Connor; I'm goin' for the doctor. You can get your line in the mornin'."
He left the house with a quick, alert step, showing no further evidence of pain. Mrs. O'Connor noticed it, and wondered that he should have got over his sickness so soon. Julius had been tempted to take her into his confidence and explain the real state of the case, but in the uncertain issue of the burglary he decided that it would not be best.
"Good-bye, old house!" he said, looking back to it in the indistinct light; "I shall never come back and live here again. I'll go down to the wharves and find a place to sleep the rest of the night."
He turned his steps in the direction of the East River. He found an out-of-the-way corner on one of the piers, where he disposed himself for sleep. It was nothing new to him. Scores of times he had spent the night in similar places, and never found fault with the accommodations. They might be poor, but the best of it was there was nothing to pay, and he must be indeed unreasonable who could complain under such circumstances. He fell asleep, but the shadow of recent events was upon him. He dreamed that Marlowe had him by the throat, and woke up in terror to find a dock-hand shaking him by the shoulder.
"Avast there!" said the man, who had caught some phrases from the sailors; "wake up and pay for your lodgin's."
"All my money's in the bank," said Julius. "I can't get at it till the bank opens."