What I want of you,of course,is mere identification.You saw the face of the man who washed his hands in the snow,and would know it again,you say.Do you think you could be quite sure of yourself,if the man were differently dressed and differently occupied?
"I think so.There's his height and a certain strong look in his face.I cannot describe it.""You don't need to.Come!we're all right.You don't mind ****** a night of it?""Not if it is necessary.
"That we can't tell yet."And with a characteristic shrug and smile,the detective led the way to a taxicab which stood in waiting at the corner.
A quarter of an hour of rather fast riding brought them into a tangle of streets on the East side.As George noticed the swarming sidewalks and listened to the noises incident to an over-populated quarter,he could not forbear,despite the injunction he had received,to express his surprise at the direction of their search.
Surely,"said he,"the gentleman I have described can have no friends here."Then,bethinking himself,he added:"But if he has reasons to fear the law,naturally he would seek to lose himself in a place as different as possible from his usual haunts.""Yes,that would be some men's way,"was the curt,almost indifferent,answer he received.Sweetwater was looking this way and that from the window beside him,and now,leaning out gave some directions to the driver which altered their course.
When they stopped,which was in a few minutes,he said to George:
"We shall have to walk now for a block or two.I'm anxious to attract no attention,nor is it desirable for you to do so.If you can manage to act as if you were accustomed to the place and just leave all the talking to me,we ought to get along first-rate.
Don't be astonished at anything you see,and trust me for the rest;that's all."
They alighted,and he dismissed the taxicab.Some clock in the neighbourhood struck the hour of ten."Good!we shall be in time,"muttered the detective,and led the way down the street and round a corner or so,till they came to a block darker than the rest,and much less noisy.
It had a sinister look,and George,who is brave enough under all ordinary circumstances,was glad that his companion wore a badge and carried a whistle.He was also relieved when he caught sight of the burly form of a policeman in the shadow of one of the doorways.Yet the houses he saw before him were not so very different from those they had already passed.His uneasiness could not have sprung from them.They had even an air of positive respectability,as though inhabited by industrious workmen.Then,what was it which made the close companionship of a member of the police so uncommonly welcome?Was it a certain aspect of solitariness which clung to the block,or was it the sudden appearance here and there of strangely gliding figures,which no sooner loomed up against the snowy perspective,than they disappeared again in some unseen doorway?
"There's a meeting on to-night,of the Associated Brotherhood of the Awl,the Plane and the Trowel (whatever that means),and it is the speaker we want to see;the man who is to address them promptly at ten o'clock.Do you object to meetings?""Is this a secret one?"
"It wasn't advertised."
"Are we carpenters or masons that we can count on admittance?""I am a carpenter.Don't you think you can be a mason for the occasion?""I doubt it,but -"
"Hush!I must speak to this man."
George stood back,and a few words passed between Sweetwater and a shadowy figure which seemed to have sprung up out of the sidewalk.
"Balked at the outset,"were the encouraging words with which the detective rejoined George."It seems that a pass-word is necessary,and my friend has been unable to get it.Will the speaker pass out this way?"he inquired of the shadowy figure still lingering in their rear.
"He didn't go in by it;yet I believe he's safe enough inside,"was the muttered answer.
Sweetwater had no relish for disappointments of this character,but it was not long before he straightened up and allowed himself to exchange a few more words with this mysterious person.These appeared to be of a more encouraging nature than the last,for it was not long before the detective returned with renewed alacrity to George,and,wheeling him about,began to retrace his steps to the corner.
"Are we going back?Are you going to give up the job?"George asked.
"No;we're going to take him from the rear.There's a break in the fence -Oh,we'll do very well.Trust me.
George laughed.He was growing excited,but not altogether agreeably so.He says that he has seen moments of more pleasant anticipation.
Evidently,my good husband is not cut out for detective work.
Where they went under this officer's guidance,he cannot tell.The tortuous tangle of alleys through which he now felt himself led was dark as the nether regions to his unaccustomed eyes.There was snow under his feet and now and then he brushed against some obtruding object,or stumbled against a low fence;but beyond these slight miscalculations on his own part,he was a mere automaton in the hands of his eager guide,and only became his own man again when they suddenly stepped into an open yard and he could discern plainly before him the dark walls of a building pointed out by Sweetwater as their probable destination.Yet even here they encountered some impediment which prohibited a close approach.A wall or shed cut off their view of the building's lower storey;and though somewhat startled at being left unceremoniously alone after just a whispered word of encouragement from the ever ready detective,George could quite understand the necessity which that person must feel for a quiet reconnoitering of the surroundings before the two of them ventured further forward in their possibly hazardous undertaking.
Yet the experience was none too pleasing to George,and he was very glad to hear Sweetwater's whisper again at his ear,and to feel himself rescued from the pool of slush in which he had been left to stand.
