BOB ASSUMES A DISGUISE.
At the close of business hours, Felix Mortimer sauntered up Broadway with something of an air of triumph about him. His jaw was still swollen, and doubtless pained him not a little.
Another boy passed up Broadway at the same time, and only a little way behind Mortimer.
It was Bob Hunter, and he managed to keep the same distance between himself and young Mortimer, whom, in fact, he was “shadowing.” Of course, Mortimer knew nothing of this. In fact, he did not know such a boy as Bob Hunter existed.
At the post office Felix Mortimer turned into Park Row. He stopped and read the bulletins at the Mail and Express office. Then he bought an evening paper, and, standing on the steps of the World office, looked it over hastily.
Now he moved on up Publishers’ Row, passing the Times, the Tribune, and the Sun buildings, and walked along Chatham Street. Presently he emerged into the Bowery. Now he walked more rapidly than he had been doing, so that Bob had to quicken his pace to keep him in sight.
At the corner of Pell Street and the Bowery he met a young man who seemed to be waiting for him.
“I’ve been hanging round here for ’most half an hour,” said he, as if displeased.
“I’m here on time,” replied Felix; “just half past five. Come, let’s have a glass of beer.”
Peter Smartweed was the name of this young fellow, as Bob afterwards found out.