Everything was going on well with Leo, even after the sudden disappearance of André and Maggie, whom, no doubt, he greatly missed in their absence. If he knew anything about the reason for their abrupt departure, he kept his own counsel, especially in the presence of Fitz Wittleworth, who, since he had discovered that "his witness" had been tampered with, had become the tormentor of the young mechanic. Fitz placed himself at the corner of Gridley Street almost every day, intent upon worming something out of Leo. The latter was too busy to waste any time on such a fellow as Mr. Wittleworth, and used to avoid him, as far as he could, by taking a round-about way to his boarding-house. But sometimes Fitz blundered upon his victim.
"I want to see you, Leo," said he one day, when he had by a happy scheme outflanked him.
"I'm in a hurry, Fitz; I can't stop now. My mice haven't had their dinner yet," replied Leo, uneasily.
"They won't starve just yet. Hold on! I've got something for you," persisted Fitz, when the victim began to move on.
"I don't want anything."
"Did you know your father had got himself into a scrape?"
"No, I didn't," answered Leo, who was interested in this intelligence.
"He has; and he'll have to answer to the court for clearing out. I suppose you never read law, and don't know anything about the subordination of witnesses. I'll tell you."
"I can't stay to hear it now," replied Leo, laughing, for he knew the difference between "subordination" and "subornation."
"I want to talk with you about half an hour some time."