"I only know that we are bound to follow those instructions, and can let you have but forty dollars, which is the price of a first-class ticket to New York by steamer.

Moreover, as this is sailing day, and the New York steamer leaves in a couple of hours, I would advise you to engage passage and go on board at once, if you do not want to be indefinitely detained here." "In what way ?" "Possibly by the sheriff, who has wanted you for some time in connection with a certain French Shore lobster case that the government is prosecuting." Perplexed and indignant as he was, Cabot realised that only in New York could his tangled affairs be straightened out, and that the quicker he got there the better.

Determined, however, to make one more effort in behalf of his friend, he produced the missionary's draft and asked if the manager would cash it.
"Certainly not," replied that individual promptly.

"Under present circumstances, Mr.Grant, we must decline to have any business dealings with you other than to accept your receipt for forty dollars, which will be paid you in the outer office." So Cabot swallowed his pride, took what he could get, and left the bank a little more downcast than he had been at any time since the day on which President Hepburn had entrusted him with his present mission.
"I don't understand it at all," he muttered to himself, as he sought an eating-house, where he proposed to expend a portion of his money in satisfying his keen appetite.

"Seems to me it is a mighty mean return for all I have gone through, and Mr.Hepburn will have to explain matters pretty clearly when I get back to New York." From the eating-house Cabot sent a letter to White, explaining his inability to secure the money he had expected, begging him to lie low for a few days, and announcing his own immediate departure for New York, from which place he promised to send back the amount of the draft immediately upon his arrival.