The night was very dark. The day had been cloudy, and there was no moon; but Ben was in a large city, with an efficient police system (that is, equal to the average), there were street lamps, the hour was not unusually late, and there were other persons beside himself abroad. And yet, in the heart of the metropolis, at the same hour, crimes have been perpetrated whose mystery has never been unraveled to this day.
Ben Mayberry may have felt somewhat uneasy, but there was not so much fear as there was curiosity to know what earthly reason any living man could have for following him in that stealthy fashion.
Surely no one could suspect him of being burdened with wealth. The only article of any account about his person was a silver watch, which had cost him sixteen dollars. He never carried a pistol, for he saw no necessity for doing so. If he should find himself beset by enemies who were too strong to be resisted, he could run as rapidly as any person in the city, and a short run in Damietta was enough to take him to a place of safety inaccessible to his assailants.
When he turned into the narrow street which led across the bridge where he had his affray with Rutherford Richmond and his companion, he reflected that it was perhaps the most dangerous spot in the neighborhood. There was a single lamp just before stepping on the bridge, where one might run against another before seeing him.
He hesitated a minute as he made the turn. It was easy enough to reach his home by a different route, which was somewhat longer, but which was well lighted all the way, and there could be little risk in taking it.
“I’ll stick to the usual way,” muttered Ben, striding resolutely forward; “I don’t believe anything like murder is contemplated.”
At that moment he would have felt much more comfortable had he possessed a pistol, or some kind of weapon, but he did not hesitate, now that he had “put his hand to the plow.”
A minute later he stepped on the bridge, where the gas lamp shone upon him, and, with his usual deliberate tread, passed off in the gloom of the other side. The instant he believed himself beyond sight of his pursuer, he quickened his gait but continually looked back in the hope of gaining a view of the man, for the boy was naturally eager to learn who it was that was playing such a sinister trick on him.
Just beyond, on the limit of his field of vision, Ben saw a shadowy figure cross quickly, to the other side of the street. The stranger did this before coming within the glare of the lamp, which would have revealed him too plainly to those who might be curious to secure a glimpse of his features.
An instant later his footfall was heard on the bridge, and he was walking rapidly toward Ben, crossing again to the same side of the street, as soon as over the stream. The boy stepped lightly but briskly forward until he reached Carter’s Alley, into which he entered a couple of yards, and then came to a sudden halt.