“Paul Morrison.”
“Oh, yes, yes. You are the boy who dashed into the burning house and—”
Paul interrupted. “Yes, that’s right; you know me.” What a poor actor the man was, Paul thought. He certainly couldn’t get away with pretending that he didn’t know him. His heart pounded and perspiration gathered on his brow. He was debating with himself what his approach should be. Would it be best merely to imply that Captain Bob’s spying was a known fact to them or should he put it frankly to the old man and see what he would say. Paul steeled himself. Very suddenly, trying to take the man off his guard, he said, “Captain Bob, I am very much surprised that you should be following us.”
The old man straightened up. “What was that you said? Following you? What for? Why should I be following you, tell me that.”
“That is something you should tell me,” he replied respectfully. “But you spied on us this morning on Water Street and then followed us as far as Chestnut Street. And just now you were following us again.”
It was really too dark to tell, but Paul felt that the old man had turned red and became confused. “My dear boy,” he mumbled angrily, “You don’t know what you are talking about.”
“You shouldn’t say that, Captain Bob. If I wasn’t positive, I wouldn’t accost you like this.”
After a moment of tense silence, the captain laughed. “Well, my boy,” he said, “you are right, but I promise not to do it any more.”
“Thank you. But if you don’t mind, I wish you would tell me why you are following us.”
Captain Bob replied gravely, “You see, my boy, there have been too many fires in this town lately. And when you and your friends came and talked to me about the fire the other day, I became a little suspicious. I tried to,—er,—get as much information out of you as I could, but somehow I felt that you were not telling me everything. So I thought I would check up on you.”