"I am Mr. Crane," was the slightly surprised rejoinder, "and I was run against by a man there, yes."
"Very well," remarked the detective, quietly, "my name is Knapp. I have been sent from Boston to look into this matter, and I have an idea that you can help me more than any other man here in Sutherlandtown. Who was this person who came in contact with you so violently? You know, even if you have been careful not to mention any names."
"You are mistaken. I don't know; I can't know. He wore a sweeping beard, and walked and acted like a man no longer young, but beyond that—-"
"Mr. Crane, excuse me, but I know men. If you had no suspicion as to whom that person was you would not look so embarrassed. You suspect, or, at least, associate in your own mind a name with the man you met. Was it either of these you see written here?"
Mr. Crane glanced at the card on which the other had scribbled a couple of names, and started perceptibly.
"You have me," said he; "you must be a man of remarkable perspicacity."
The detective smiled and pocketed his card. The names he thus concealed were John Zabel, James Zabel.
"You have not said which of the two it was," Knapp quietly suggested.
"No," returned the minister, "and I have not even thought. Indeed, I am not sure that I have not made a dreadful mistake in thinking it was either. A glimpse such as I had is far from satisfactory; and they are both such excellent men—-"
"Eight! You did make a mistake, of course, I have not the least doubt of it. So don't think of the matter again. I will find out who the real man was; rest easy."