When Mason parted from Charles at Carlin he went straight to New York
without stopping. It had been his intention to remain in the city only a
few days, but, chancing to find his old room at Mrs. Reilly's
unoccupied, he took it; he would wait for letters from home before
deciding what to do in the future. Having sufficient funds to pay his
way for a while, he felt rather independent.
One morning he happened to be passing through Washington Square when he
came face to face with a man whose features were strangely familiar, and
yet Mason could not tell where he had seen him before. It was evident,
too, that the stranger had recognized him; indeed, there seemed to be a
flash of surprised delight in the man's eyes. He passed on, and Mason,
looking back, saw that the man was looking back also, though he quickly
turned his head and walked on, now more slowly.
Seating himself on a park bench and opening a newspaper, Mason, by
looking over its top, kept the man in view. Where had he seen him? he
asked himself. Was it among the professional followers of the circus;
perhaps he was some one he had chatted with at a restaurant? These
questions were unanswered till a little thing happened. It was the
surprising act of the stranger in pausing behind the great arch at the
entrance of the park and peering stealthily at him. In a flash it came
to Mason that it was the plain-clothes detective whom he had first seen
at Madison Square a year before, who had followed him and Charles to
their rooms, and from whom they had so narrowly escaped by flight at
night.
"This is a pretty mess!" Mason muttered. "Now he will perhaps nab me as
a witness and I'll be put through some sort of a third degree to force
me to tell where Brown is and what I know about him. I'll make a move
and see what he will do, anyway."
With this thought, and lowering his paper, Mason rose, sauntered
carelessly along the walk to another bench, and sat down. Looking toward
the arch, he saw the stranger coming in his direction. Opening the
paper, Mason pretended to be reading, though he could still see the
approaching man. He reached him, but, to his surprise, passed on.
However, he came to a halt near by, and, with his hands in the pockets
of his short coat, he stood staring hesitatingly at Mason. "He may be
waiting for a policeman to help him take me in," was Mason's dejected
mental comment. "I think I am in for trouble this time sure. I don't see
any bluecoat about. I wonder if I'd better make a run for it?"
He decided that such a course was impossible; the detective would blow a
whistle and some one in the crowd would stop him; besides, the man
looked as if he might be swift of foot. "We thwarted him before, and he
will run no chances this time," Mason decided, gloomily, and he began
drawing mental pictures of himself seated in the midst of a group of
uniformed officers bent on locating the man in whose company he had been
seen. The big price on the head of his friend was, no doubt, still
offered, and that was inducement for extra work. Mason decided that he
would lie with as straight a face as possible, though he was afraid that
he might become tangled in his statements; the detectives might uncover
discrepancies which could be turned against himself. There was no doubt
that he was in a "pickle," as he put it, and he was both angry and
alarmed. Charles had never alluded during their long friendship to the
published charges against him, but somehow Mason had come to believe
that his friend was not guilty.
The stranger, with what looked like an absolutely timid expression of
face and mien, was coming toward him. There was nothing to do but to
brazen it out, and Mason braced himself for the most difficult ordeal of
his life. The man stopped in front of him, bent forward, and said:
"I beg your pardon, sir, but it seems to me that your face is somewhat
familiar, and I was wondering if we have ever met before. I am a
stranger in the city, sir, but I have an idea that I saw you a year ago
here in New York."
"It may be," Mason answered, conscious that he must make as few
admissions as possible and yet not appear to be keeping back anything.
Suddenly his line of procedure became clear to him. He would simply say
to this man, and his associates, that he had not seen Charles for more
than a year. How could they prove otherwise, for if they had known
Charles to be with the circus they would have taken him? That point was
clear and Mason now felt more confident. He found that he could calmly
return the stranger's bland stare. In fact, he began to study the
fellow. He fancied he knew the exact spot under the man's lapel where
his metal badge was concealed.
"It was in the crowd at Madison Square where I saw you," the stranger
went on, as if eager to remind Mason of the fact. "You were listening to
the speakers."
"Yes, I remember going there," Mason said, taking out a box of
cigarettes. "Do you happen to have a match about you?"
The man fished one from a vest pocket with fingers which seemed to
quiver slightly, and there was no doubt as to the look of suspended
excitement in his mild eyes. Mason decided that he would not offer him a
cigarette. "I think I recall seeing you there," he remarked. "In fact,
as you passed me just now your face seemed familiar. You say you are a
stranger in the city?"
"Yes, I only come here once in a while."
Silence fell. A lame Italian was playing a wheezy hand-organ at the end
of the walk, and a group of ill-clad children were dancing near by.
Charles wondered what his companion would do if he suddenly got up and
left. Would he then declare himself in his official capacity or dog his
steps as formerly? Mason somehow wanted the thing settled for good and
all. How could he sleep or have any peace of mind with an uncertainty
like that hanging over him?
"I think I may venture to be plain with you, sir," the stranger broke
the silence to say. "The day I saw you you were in the company of a--a
young man that I desire very much to meet."
"Oh, let me see," and Mason deliberately flicked the ash from his
cigarette. "Who was I with that day? I ran with several chaps about that
time."
The stranger described Charles accurately, and all but held his breath
as he waited.
"Oh, _that_ fellow!" Mason exclaimed, carelessly. "He was a stranger to
me. I met him by accident at the house I roomed at. So you want to meet
him?"
"Yes, very much. He is an old friend of mine."
"I see," Mason answered. "Well, I'm sorry I can't help you find him. He
and I parted about that time and I have not seen him since. I'm rather
sorry, too, for I found him a rather agreeable chap."
"So you don't know where he is?" The stranger's face fell, and a shadow
of absolute gloom seemed to come into his earnest eyes. "When I saw you
just now, sir, I hoped that you might put me on the track of him."
"He dies hard," Mason mused, now more at his ease. "No, I can't help
you," he said, aloud. "If I remember rightly he said something about
working his way to England on a cattle-ship."
"England? My God! then I'll not find him at all!" the stranger sighed.
"It would be a difficult job," Mason went on, with real pleasure in the
tale he was concocting. Then suddenly he was emboldened to pursue
different tactics. "Say," he said, "I think you are the man I saw
hanging about our house the night after I noticed you in Madison Square.
Am I right?"
Something like a sigh escaped the lips of the stranger. Surely, if he
was a detective, he was either a poor one or a most accomplished actor.
Mason suddenly decided that he was dealing with the latter when his
companion answered:
"Yes, I followed you both to that house, sir. I wanted a word with my
friend. I tried to catch his eye in the crowd at Madison Square, but
failed."
"But if you wanted to speak to him, or see him, why didn't you do it
while he was with me?" Mason demanded, with no little pride now in his
skill at cross-examination, and a growing sense of his own security.
"There were reasons why I should not," was the slow answer. "I wanted to
see him alone, sir. I watched the house that night till--" The stranger
paused as if he had said more than he intended.
"Till I came out and made you run away?" Mason smiled. "I didn't intend
to spoil your game, whatever it was."
"I came back and watched the house after that," the man went on,
dejectedly. "I saw you both come out with your things. I followed you
up-town and across to the river. I saw you at the boat-house. I didn't
know you intended to cross over till your boat had started; then it was
too late. You see, sir, I am pretty sure that you do know more about my
friend than you are willing to tell. I've got to know more about him,
and I'm going to stick to you till you help me locate him. You see, I
don't believe the story about the cattle-ship. Men don't go to New
Jersey in a small boat at night to ship for England. Now, do they, sir,
really?"
"But you see, it was after we got across that he thought of England,"
Mason added, carelessly. "Come on, my friend, spit it out. What is it
that you have up your sleeve, anyway?"
"I am sorry, sir," the stranger answered, regretfully, "but I cannot
take you fully into my confidence. You see, if it were my affair alone
it would be different, but, as it is, I cannot say more."
"Sly dog," Mason thought. "I've seen a few detectives at their game, but
I never knew that any of them ever played the part of absolute idiocy to
gain a point." "Well," he added, aloud, "we may as well change the
subject. Have you ever noticed how gracefully these street kids dance?
Watch that slim girl waltzing with the tiny tot. Why, she--"
"Excuse me, sir," the stranger broke in, "but I am not satisfied about
what you have told me. I don't want to doubt your word, sir, but this is
a very grave matter. I have been looking for you for a year, hoping that
if I met you I'd learn something about my young friend. You yourself
make me doubt the story of the cattle-ship. It is the way you tell it, I
suppose. I think, sir, that we are playing at cross-purposes. I'm sure,
sir, that my young friend must have placed confidence in you. He showed
that, it seems to me, sir, by leaving the city with you as he did that
night. Nobody but two close friends would act as you did. You see, I
kept you in sight all the way to the boat-house. I crossed over myself
the next morning, and looked all about over there, but saw nothing of
you." Mason stood up. He was no longer afraid of the man, and yet he was
irritated by his persistence. He looked at his watch. "I must be going,"
he said. "I have an appointment down-town."
The stranger was on his feet also. "Don't leave me like this, sir," he
implored. "I have reasons to believe that our young friend would be glad
to see me if he could safely do so. Somehow I feel that he is here in
the city and that you know where he is."
"You are barking up the wrong tree," Mason said, crisply. "I know
nothing more than I have told you."
"But I have caught you in a contradiction--about the cattle-ship for
England, you see," and the man actually grasped Mason's lapel and clung
to it desperately. "I don't want to go back to Boston without some
favorable news. He has one true friend there who would do anything to
get news of him--a good kind lady and a relation of his. I haven't much
money, sir. I am only a poor servant with a sick mother to support out
of my earnings, but if you will give me some helpful information I am
willing to pay you."
"Pay me? Come off. What do you take me for?" Mason drew back and
detached his lapel from the man's clutch. "Do you think I don't know
your game? Well, I do, and let that end it. Good day."
Turning suddenly, Mason strode off toward Broadway. "That will settle
him, I guess," he muttered, "unless he calls a cop to take me in. That
was mushy sob-talk he was giving me. I guess he thought it would go
down, but it didn't. Good Lord! a man that can act like that ought to be
playing Hamlet. He is after that ten thousand dollars and he is willing
to work for it. Good gracious! he no doubt knows where I hang out.
Perhaps he dogged my steps here to-day and that startled look of
recognition was all part of his game. He and several others may now have
Mrs. Reilly's house under watch. Gee! that mountain town is the place
for poor Brown, after all!" He had reached the edge of the square when,
happening to glance back, he saw the stranger following him. "My Lord!
what is he up to now?" Mason said, under his breath. The man was
signaling to him with his handkerchief.
"Wait, sir!" he called out. "I must see you a moment."
Mason turned back into the walk he had just left, and advanced to meet
the man. "I'll have it out with him and be done with it," he decided. "I
can't stand this. I'd as soon be in jail myself. If he wants to take me
to the police I'll go. I'll stick to the cattle-ship yarn, and let them
disprove it."