The country girl hurried toward the north-bound Madison Avenue car, which she boarded, with several other passengers. Among them was the gray-haired man who had received the mysterious message.
Burke watched the car disappear, and then turned to look at the smiling young man, who lit a cigarette, flicking the match insolently near the policeman's face.
"Move on, you," said Burke, and the young man shrugged his shoulders, leisurely returning to the waiting room of the station.
Burke was puzzled.
"I wonder what that game was? Maybe I stopped him in time. He looks like a cadet, I'll be bound. Well, I haven't time to stand around here and get a reprimand for starting on a wild-goose chase."
So Burke returned to the station house and started out on his rounds.
Had he taken the same car as the country girl, however, he would have understood the curious manoeuvre of the young man with the smile.
When the girl had ridden almost to the end of the line she left the car at a certain street. The elderly gentleman with the neat clothes and the fatherly gray hair did so at the same time. She walked uncertainly down one street, while he followed, without appearing to do so, on the opposite side. He saw her looking at the slip of paper, while she struggled with her bandboxes. He casually crossed over to the same side of the thoroughfare.
"Can I direct you, young lady?" he politely asked.
He was such a kind-looking old gentleman that the girl's confidence was easily won.