"Well, anyhow, thanks for bringing the note. But I've got to disappoint her to-night. I'm off in a deuce of a hurry to interview General Henderson. I'll be out to tea to-morrow. You can find your way out of this old firetrap. By-by!"
The moment he turned away the smile faded from Jones' face, and with the quickness and noiselessness of a cat he reached the side of the booth in which Gregg believed himself so secure from eavesdropping. The half dozen words Jones heard convinced him that Norton was again the object of the Black Hundred's attention. He had seen the man's face that memorable night when the balloon stopped for its passenger. Before Gregg came out of the booth Jones decided to overtake Norton and forewarn him, but unfortunately the reporter was nowhere in sight.
There was left for Jones nothing else but to return home or follow when Gregg came out. As this night he knew Florence to be exceptionally well guarded, both within and without the house, he decided to wait and follow the spy.
When Braine received the message he was pleased. Norton's assignment fitted his purpose like a glove. Before midnight he would have Mr. Meddling Reporter where he would bother no one for some time—if he proved tractable. If not, he would never bother any one again. Braine gave his orders tersely. Unless Norton met with unforeseen delay, nothing could prevent his capture.
When Norton arrived at the Henderson place, a footman informed him from the veranda that General Henderson was at 49 Elm Street for the evening, and it would be wise to call there. Jim nodded his thanks and set off in haste for 49 Elm Street. The footman did not enter the house, but hurried down the steps and slunk off among the adjacent shrubbery. His mission was over with.
The house in Elm Street was Braine's suburban establishment. He went there occasionally to hibernate, as it were, to grow a new skin when close pressed. The caretaker was a man rightly called Samson. He was a bruiser of the bouncer type.
It was fast work for Braine to get out there. If the man disguised as a footman played his cards badly Braine would have all his trouble for nothing. He disguised himself with that infernal cleverness which had long since made him a terror to the police, who were looking for ten different men instead of one. He knew that Norton would understand instantly that he was not the general; but on the other hand he would not know that he was addressing Braine.
So the arch-conspirator waited; and so Norton arrived and was ushered into the room. A single glance was enough to satisfy the reporter, always keen-eyed and observant.
"I wish to see General Henderson," he said politely.
"General Henderson is doubtless at his own house."