After the first instant of horror and surprise, his active mind centered upon itself; the opportunity at least of identifying Sybil Chase with the woman he had seen was offered. What might follow he dared not think of—the hope was too great and joyous in the midst of so much suffering.
He turned and followed the man swiftly; came up to him in a narrow and almost deserted street and laid his hand upon his shoulder. The stranger started like an escaped prisoner who felt the grasp of his pursuers upon him; but when he saw Ralph Hinchley's face, he uttered a cry and endeavored to break away. But the young man held him fast, and a few rapid words reassured the fugitive so much that he walked quietly by his side and listened to him doubtfully, glancing around like a wild animal in fear of pursuit, and ready at the slightest sound to take flight.
"It is useless to deny what I say," was the conclusion of Hinchley's hasty address. "I mean you no harm. Only answer my questions, and you may go."
"Speak out then," returned the man, sullenly; "though I don't know why the deuce I should let a man I never saw before come up and question me in this way."
"You remember me, and did from the first," replied Hinchley, regarding him with keen decision. "Your eyes waver—you are pale, too. This is cowardly. Come, man, you need not be afraid; for any thing I shall do you are safe enough. What I want is the truth, and not even that about yourself."
"Well," replied the man, laughing in a reckless way, "the truth is not difficult to tell about other people, though I am out of practice."
After a little more persuasion, he followed Hinchley on to the Battery, and, sitting down under a tree, they conversed eagerly. Very soon all doubt and fear left the man's face, a stern passion and fierce exultation lit every feature, while from Ralph Hinchley's faded the shadow and gloom that had clouded his countenance for weeks.