Then for a while we pushed on in the darkness, and nobody spoke. Finally the driver turned, saying that Gaston's lights were near at hand; presently he reined up. Mr. Parker exchanged head-gear with me; pulled the brim of my roomy black felt well down over his face; and, cautioning us in a low tone to remain where we were, disappeared in the direction of the lights.
It must have been long after three. I was tired and chilled. The driver got out his gum coat and buttoned it around him. Five—ten minutes we waited. No sound but the dismal patter of the rain. Full quarter of an hour passed, it seemed to me, before I saw a lantern coming rapidly out of the darkness in front, and presently Mr. Parker's voice was heard.
"Come on; drive slowly. Go right in to Gaston's," and, even as he spoke, he swung in beside me. "Had Amory any money, do you know?" he asked, before fairly taking his seat.
"No. Why?"
"There is something strange about this affair I cannot fathom. I've been talking with Gaston and one of his men. They have been sitting up waiting for us to get back. Those two footpads were up to some mischief, and I'm afraid it was Amory they were after. You will hear in a moment. Come into the bar," he said, as the cab stopped at the steps.
Another moment and Gaston himself had ushered us into a little room and proceeded to tell his tale. We had no sooner left, he said, than those gentlemen who came from town in the buggy after midnight re-entered the bar, ordered drinks, and asked Gaston to join them. One was a big man, with a heavy moustache, and deep-set eyes under very shaggy brows; he was rather poorly dressed, and had no watch. The other was a young, dark-eyed, handsome fellow, with dark moustache, stylish clothes, and a fine gold watch, which he kept nervously looking at every moment or so. The former did all the talking; the latter paid for everything they ordered both before and after our visit. After a few ordinary remarks the big man asked Gaston who the young officer was, and Gaston, knowing him to be stationed in the city and having often seen him, gave his name. Then they wanted to know who was with him in the cab, and "what took him off so sudden." Gaston had seen nobody with him, but told them unhesitatingly that Mr. Parker was in search of a friend,—an officer who had ridden out on horseback. At this the men had looked suddenly at one another, and very soon after had gone out, saying they believed they would drive back, it looked like rain.
Five minutes afterwards, Louis, the hostler, came into the bar and asked Gaston who those men were, and, on being told that they were strangers, had replied, "Well, they're here for no good, and I'd like to follow them up. They didn't see me out there in the dark, and were talking very low and fast when they came for their buggy." We called Louis in and had his story from his own lips. He had heard their talk, and it alarmed and puzzled him. The big man was saying with an oath that some man they were waiting for must be around there somewhere; he had come across the bridge, for Gaston told them the officer said so. The little man was excited, and had answered, "Well, we've got to tackle him; but don't you drive into any light." With that and some more talk they had got into the buggy and had driven rapidly off towards the Canal Street bridge.
"How long ago?" asked Mr. Parker.
"Full half an hour," was the answer.
"Then we had better start at once," said the aide to me. "What other places are there near here that would be open now, Gaston?"