While Meiser was walking under the lindens, his cause was progressing swimmingly.

He had received that sweet assurance from the very lips of its promoters.

And so he tripped lightly toward the depot of the North-Eastern Railroad, without any other baggage than a revolver in his pocket.

His black leather trunk had gone before; and was waiting for him at the station.

On the way, he was glancing into the shop windows, when he stopped short before a stationer's, and rubbed his eyes--a sovereign remedy, people say, for impaired vision.