A SUSPICIOUS INDIVIDUAL
Now let us see what really happened to Jack. He left his home with the
intention of going to the meeting. As he walked along, deeply occupied
with his thoughts, he suddenly became conscious of a certain individual
that had just passed. Jack turned on his heel and stared at the
retreating back of the individual. The man was tall and thin—gaunt;
he wore a cap and a jacket and pants that hung like sacks upon him.
Jack tried to think what it was about the individual that attracted
his attention and he concluded that it was something wild about his
appearance, about his bearing. He began to follow the man, sorry that
he did not get a good look at the man’s face.
Jack went over the situation in his mind. He wanted to go to the
meeting and if he did not come, the boys might feel badly. On the
other hand, there was something very suspicious about the person he
was following. The man appeared to be very excited, or anxious; he
seemed to be very much on the alert, turning his head this way and that
way, as though searching for something. Jack felt sorry that he could
not get a good look at the man’s face. Perhaps he could do it now, he
thought, by walking ahead then walking back toward him; or possibly
by hiding in some doorway and obtaining a close view of him as the man
passed. But on second consideration, he thought it better not to do
that. The man might get a good look at him and remember his face, which
would put him at a disadvantage.
Jack decided merely to follow and see what would happen. Twice the
man turned around and looked back; Jack decided to cross over to the
other side of the street. His heart pounded and he became nervous
and excited. He followed, keeping his eyes glued to the back of the
suspicious character. The man kept shifting his head in all directions,
staring at people, at houses, at everything; his eyes seemed to bore
right into things.
The man turned into John Street, usually a deserted street with only
several old houses on it. Jack quickly removed the light sweater he
was wearing and formed it into a small package under his arm. If the
man had noticed him, the fact that he now appeared in a white shirt,
carrying a package under his arm, would make the man think him a
different person. The man continued walking rapidly with Jack hot
on his trail. The street was very poorly lit and Jack was forced to
shorten the distance between the man and himself, though he still
kept to the wrong side of the street. Coming to a lonely house set
on a large plot, the man suddenly dashed behind the wall. Jack felt
his excitement increase. He was only sorry that Paul or one of the
boys were not with him; not that he felt afraid but for the sake of
companionship. He had a weird, creepy feeling to be following a man on
a deserted, dark street.
Jack kept on walking as though nothing happened. He made believe that
he didn’t see anything unusual. His head square on his shoulders, he
kept a careful watch out of the corner of his eye. He saw a large rock
on the lot he was passing and immediately he threw himself behind it.
Looking from the side of his shelter, he watched the house across the
street. Possibly five minutes passed and nothing happened. To him it
seemed like hours. At last the man he had been following showed himself
at the corner of the house. Warily, the man stuck his head out and
looked in all directions. In spite of the distance between them, the
man’s wild appearance, his ghostly form outlined in the dark, made Jack
shiver; a cold chill ran down his spine.
At last the man came forth and walked away in the direction from which
he had come. Waiting until he thought it was safe for him to follow,
Jack then rose and sprinted forward until he was within about five
yards of his man, who no longer shifted his head back and forth wildly
but, instead kept looking straight ahead of him. Jack was glad of that
because it made it easier following.
At Main Street, the man turned right. Jack followed and became more
convinced that his suspicions were well founded. Beyond any doubt there
was either something wrong with the man or else he was a fugitive of
some sort, trying to get away. The man turned into Water Street and
Jack felt a cold chill break out. Instantly it flashed upon him that
the suspicious fire of the previous day had occurred on Water Street.
Was the man returning to the place of his crime? Or was he on his way
to perpetrate another crime, perhaps set flames to another house in the
same neighborhood?
His head turned straight ahead of him, the man walked on briskly. Jack
followed. Closer and closer they came to the house that had burned
down. When they were within about ten yards of it, the man suddenly
stopped in his tracks and very slowly turned around. In the nick of
time, Jack dashed into a shadow and was out of sight. The man hesitated
and then very slowly approached the heap of ashes and sticks of wood
that were once a house. Jack hid himself, watching him closely,
wondering what he was up to. Seeing the man approach the heap of ashes,
Jack’s emotions got so strong that he could barely control himself.
“Easy!” he mumbled to himself. “Take it easy now!”
He flattened himself out on the ground and watched his man who sat down
on the bare earth as though in grief. The man’s shoulders heaved and
soon Jack heard sobs of genuine sorrow. Jack could not help feeling
sorry for the poor chap. He wondered what was wrong with him, that
might have caused him to set fire to the house. For by now, Jack was no
longer in any doubt as to the man’s guilt.
For some time the man sat there, hunched over, his body trembling and
sobbing bitterly. At last he got on his knees and crept forward to the
heap of ashes. Picking up a handful, he let the dust slide through his
fingers. Five or six times he repeated this action. Finally he took out
of his pocket a handkerchief, spread it out on the ground, and piled
several handfuls of ashes on it; then gathering the ends together, he
made a knot and put the package under his arm. Rising, he looked around
and then walked off in the direction of Main Street.
Just as soon as he thought it was safe, Jack was up and following. What
was the most reasonable thing to do, he tried to figure out. Should
he notify the police? Should he run off and talk it over with Paul or
Ken? Or should he do nothing and just follow. Unable to determine what
would be his most reasonable action, he continued to follow the man and
thought of nothing else.
A block before Main Street, he saw his man suddenly disappear into
the side street. Becoming frantic at the thought of losing him, Jack
sprinted up to the corner. He saw his man flattening out against the
wall of the corner building. Jack hid behind a parked car. Was the
man aware of being followed? Jack tried to think whether he had at
any moment shown himself. His deliberations were cut short by the man
stepping forth again and continuing on his way. Pursuer and pursued
turned left on Main Street. The man increased his pace, stretching out
his long legs. However, Jack had no difficulty in following. Clear
across the town the two went, back to John Street into which the man
turned. Jack hesitated for a second before crossing the street. There
was something funny about being led back to this deserted street. Could
it be possible that he was being led into a trap of some sort? Chucking
his anxiety and doubt to the winds, he crossed the street to follow,
but by then the man had disappeared. He walked up and down the street
but the man did not return.
Jack returned to Main Street. “Whew!” He wiped the perspiration off
his brow. That was some night, some chase, he thought to himself. The
next moment he felt a pang of regret for having lost track of his man.
However, it could not be helped and it would be useless to worry over
it. Now that he had a pretty good picture of the individual—even
though he had not seen the face—Jack felt certain that he would come
upon him again. In the meanwhile he thought it best to go over and see
Paul.
Paul and Ken were sitting on the steps of the porch. Side by side, in
silence, each mused over his thoughts. Paul noticed someone approach
the gate. The next moment he was on his feet and running to meet his
chum. “Jack!” he cried, “where have you been?”
Ken also ran up. “Hey!” he spoke harshly, “you had us in stitches. What
is the idea of disappearing like that and where have you been?”
Jack smiled. “I am sorry I had you fellows worried,” he said. “But wait
until I tell you what happened to me.”
“What?” demanded Paul impatiently.
“Let’s sit down first; I’m tired.”
The boys sat down at the rear of the porch, so as not to be disturbed.
Jack told his story and Paul and Ken listened gravely, interrupting
every once in a while for some detailed information. They sat so
closely together, listened so attentively to the narrative, that an
outsider seeing them would have taken them for conspirators. In a sense
they were that: they were conspiring on how to capture and rid the
neighborhood of a maniac. When Jack had at last concluded, Ken let out
a long whistle. Paul whispered, “That proves all my suspicions.”
“Wait a minute,” said Ken. “Let’s re-consider the whole situation. Both
of you seem to have the impression that the man is a maniac, crazy. But
how do you know that he didn’t contrive the whole thing just to put on
a show for Jack’s sake? How do you know what the man was up to? He
might have realized that he was being followed and to mislead Jack, he
performed a mighty interesting show. We don’t know whether this man is
guilty of burning down that house and before we are sure of it, let’s
not pass judgement.”
There was silence. Those statements provided plenty of food for thought
and all three of them knitted their brows. Paul said, “What you say
is true, Ken. Of course, we must not pass judgement hastily. However,
somehow I feel that my suspicions are correct.”
Jack nodded. “I feel the same way about it,” he offered as his opinion.
“At any rate,” argued Ken, “let’s wait and see. You say that you would
recognize him if you saw him again—”
“Absolutely,” asserted Jack interrupting. “I could pick him out of a
million men.”
“Very well, then. In that case, we will watch out for him. In the
meanwhile, I suggest that the first thing tomorrow morning we go over
to Water Street and examine the place. Perhaps we will find some sort
of clue, his footprints if nothing else.”
“It’s too bad we can’t go there tonight,” said Jack.
“No. For one thing, it is too late. And secondly if someone noticed
us there tonight, we would be under suspicion. And that would make
everything perfect.”
“That’s settled, then,” remarked Ken as he rose. “I am going home.
Coming, Jack?”
“Yes. Goodnight, Paul.”
“Goodnight. See you fellows tomorrow morning.”
“Righto!”