An amiable person, but we were wasting both his and our time. Each one
of the six organs reproduced the original notation of the aria, and the
imperfect instrument must therefore be in private hands. So we returned
thanks to Mr. Gualdo Sarto for his courtesy, and went away somewhat
disheartened. Haystacks are large places and needles small objects.
Two days went by--days spent in aimless wandering about the streets
waiting for a distant hand-organ to give tongue. Then a hot chase, only
to draw another blank.
On the third day I came home alone about five o'clock. The weather was
really hot again, and I was tired out with tramping. Yet a little chill
ran down my spine as I happened to glance across the street and caught
sight of a man's face in an areaway. He had been watching me; of that I
was certain.
I went up to the library and sat there waiting for Indiman. The man in
the areaway waited also.
At half after six Indiman appeared. He, too, had been unsuccessful; I
could see it in his face before he spoke. I told him of the suspicious
loiterer across the street. Together we kept close watch on the
areaway, and after a while the fellow came out and strolled off with
what was intended to pass as jaunty indifference. But we were not
deceived.
"That fool of a girl has talked," said Indiman. "Looks like it."
"See here, Thorp, that thing in the cellar--we'll have to do something
at once."