It was a simple
method of procedure, and it did not prove immediately successful. As it
was about as easy to be a vagabond in one locality as in another, he
drifted from place to place--first to Sacramento, then to San Francisco,
then over the Sierras to the mining camps of Nevada, then through Utah
and Wyoming, till at last he found himself in jail in St. Louis.
There, three years after the murder, he found his old pal J. C. P.
Collins--but how changed! Could that coarse and bloated countenance
belong to the fastidious and pleasure-loving Collins?
"Well, Collins, I hardly knew you. How does the grub here compare with
what we used to get at Carter's boarding-house?" O'Leary referred to the
jail at Nevada City.
"This must be your first week in St. Louis," replied Collins, "if you
haven't put up at this hotel before. Been caught stealing again, I
suppose?"
"That's me. Only the matter of a lady's purse that was of no use to
her."
"Well, women are the cause of all my trouble. They drag a man down worse
than drink. They are a bad lot, are women."
"Why, you're a regular preacher, ain't you? You used to be a ladies'
man.
Pages:
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139