"Come, sir, accompany me, if you will. I would invite you to my room to take wine, but unfortunately they're so crowded here they've been obliged to put me far up. Suppose we go to the bar?"
"Well, if you please; but you'll pardon me when I say that I must not indulge but once now. The night is long yet, and we shall have other occasion, perhaps, to drink. I know how generous and impulsive you Southern gentlemen are."
"O, surely, I know we are apt to 'go ahead,' like Davy Crockett, when we are right, and when we are not, too; but come along, please," and the trusting Purvis carelessly locked his arm in that of Ellsworth, and they moved towards the bar-room.
My first intention was to follow them, but I hesitated, and waited their return. They were gone a far longer time than necessary to take one glass, and when they came along down the hall, rested but a moment at the door, and stepped out down Broadway together.
"Ellsworth has his victim in sure training," thought I to myself. "Where can they be going?"
Feeling confident that some mischief would be wrought ere the night was passed, I followed on at proper distance, and saw the two lingering for a moment before No. 477 Broadway. Ellsworth seemed more in doubt what to do than Purvis, or less decided. By this time I had, by mingling with sundry pedestrians, managed to approach near enough to Ellsworth and Purvis to hear the latter say,—
"Well, if you think we won't obtrude, let us go up to see your friend for a while."
"No, we shall not obtrude," replied Ellsworth, "but I was thinking if we might not find some more agreeable place,"—but he turned and went up the stairs, followed by Purvis.
In 477, at that time, was a half gambling hell, kept as the private rooms of a worthless sporting son of a distinguished surgeon. I had never been in the place, but had heard that many fast young men gathered there to play cards for fun, and that sometimes a faro-bank was run there for "amusement." Fearing that by some possibility Ellsworth might notice me as the individual having stood near him in the St. Nicholas so long, and suspect something if I went in alone, and undisguised, I was resolving what course to pursue, when my friend, Henry W——, a detective, came along. He was just my size, and wore a blue "swallow-tailed" coat, while I had on a black frock. I took Henry into the small hall-way, and said, "Business up; swap coats with me in a minute; and if you've a pair of false mustaches with you, let me have 'em, Henry."
"I haven't mustaches," said Henry; "but here's something as good," said he, pulling from the skirt of his coat a paper containing a fine long-haired wig. (My hair was cut extremely short for the then prevailing fashion.) The changing of coats, and assuming of the wig, was but a moment's work, and with my promise to Henry "to report in the morning," we parted, and I mounted to the sporting-room in a trice. Walking in coolly, I proceeded quietly to the "bureau," and helped myself, as is the custom in such places, to a small glass of wine, and while drinking, took a survey.