“Surely, you are not——”
“Darius Darke, at your service. So you didn’t know me?”
“No, sir; you don’t look much like the man I saw in Wilton the night of the fire.”
“Speak low,” said the other. “I don’t care, for reasons of my own, to be identified as that man. We must continue our conversation in a place more retired. Come up to my room;” and he turned to enter the hotel.
“Do you live here?” asked Tom, amazed, for to live in the Astor House, as he understood, required a long purse.
“Yes; follow me.”
He led the way up-stairs, and introduced Tom into a pleasant room on the third floor.
“Now, sit down, Thomas, and make yourself at home. Confess, you are surprised at my transformation?”
“I certainly am, sir.”