“How did you escape, Mr. Darke?”
Darius Darke explained to Tom how he had been induced to change his bed and remove to the stable. He explained furthermore how he had chanced to see Mr. Simpson setting fire to the building.
“I understood at once his motive,” continued Mr. Darke, “and I resolved to watch the issue of this act. When the building was in flames, and the crowd around it, I saw all from the stable where I was safely hidden. It was not till all was over, and the crowd had dispersed, that I ventured to leave my retreat, and take up my line of march from the place which had come near proving my grave. I came at once to New York, and here I have been ever since. But there is one thing I have not explained to you. You wonder, no doubt, how the penniless tramp succeeded in assuming the dress and position of a gentleman in easy circumstances.”
Tom admitted that this was a matter which he could not understand.
“Then I will explain. After leaving you I called upon Mr. Simpson. He did not at first recognize me, but I succeeded in recalling myself to his remembrance. He was not glad to see me. In fact, he heartily wished me at the remotest corner of the globe, I make no doubt, but he was, nevertheless, prevailed to hand over to me five hundred dollars. I see you look surprised,” continued Darius Darke. “He did not dare to do otherwise! I knew that about him which gave me a hold upon him. Well, it was so late that it seemed necessary to remain in Wilton till morning. In my wretched attire I could not secure a lodging at the tavern, and my kind host offered me the hospitality of his barn. I don’t think at the moment he had any designs upon my life. Otherwise he would have suggested that I leave the money in his hands till the next day, and thus avoid the danger of burning it up.”
“I was thinking of that, Mr. Darke,” said Tom.
“It would naturally occur to any one. I suppose that after I had left him the idea of this easy way of ridding himself of me occurred to my old friend Simpson, and although he was likely to sacrifice the money, he doubtless thought it would save him from any more involuntary loans. So he went out after midnight, when I might be supposed to have fallen asleep, and kindled the fire.”
“The next morning he accused me of setting the fire,” said Tom.
“The scoundrel! I can see his object, however. He hates you almost as much as he does me.”
“I don’t see why he should hate me,” said Tom.