memoranda of his business lying about. The only scrap that could have a
possible bearing on it was a sheet of paper in the coat he had changed
with me. It bore a rough map, showing a road branching thrice, with
crosses marked here and there upon it. Underneath was written:

"Third road--cockeyed barn--iron cow."

Then followed some numerals mixed in a drunken dance with half the
letters of the alphabet--the explanation of the map, I supposed, in
cipher, and as it might prove the clue to this dreadful business, I
folded the sheet carefully in an envelope and placed it in an inmost
pocket.

The search having failed of definite results, I sat with chair tilted
against the wall to consider the situation. Turn it as I would, I could
make nothing good of it. There were desperate enterprises afoot of
which I could see neither beginning nor end, purpose nor result. I
repented of my consent to mix in these dangerous doings and resolved
that when the morning came I would find other quarters, take up the
search for Henry, and look for such work as might be found.

It was after midnight when I had come to this conclusion, and, barring
doors and windows as well as I could, I flung myself on the bed to
rest. I did not expect to sleep after the exciting events through which
I had passed; yet after a bit the train of mental pictures drawn out by
the surging memories of the night became confused and faded away, and I
sank into an uneasy slumber.

When I awoke it was with a start and an oppressive sense that somebody
else was in the room. The gas-light that I had left burning had been