Where was he now? Perhaps hiding in the forests of the far west, amid
the barbaric scenes of savage life; perhaps giving himself up to a
reckless life of dissipation, seeking in the delirium of intoxication a
forgetfulness of the deed he had committed, and of the consequences
which must befall him. How many long, weary nights since he fled from
Geneva, with his ill-gotten booty, had he, even in the midst of a
bacchanalian revel, started suddenly, as if in fear of the officer he so
much dreaded, and then with a boastful laugh drank deeper to drown the
agonies that oppressed him? Perhaps, on the other hand, the first step
taken, the rest had come easy and without effort, and he had already
become hardened and reckless. Whatever might be the case, we were as yet
uninformed, and operative John Manning arrived in Sioux City with no
definite clew to the missing man.
Seeking, as before, the assistance of the police authorities, Manning
proposed to make a tour of the so-called houses of pleasure, which
infest all cities, deeming it most likely that he would obtain some
traces of Duncan by that means. This proved successful in a comparative
degree, for in one of these places Manning found a gay young cyprian,
who recognized Duncan's picture immediately.
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