"No; let him go, but keep your eyes on him. He has not done us any harm yet. If he comes here again I will send for you."
CHAPTER VIII.
CLAUS CALLS AGAIN.
When the stout man reached the sidewalk he saw the German a short distance in advance of him, still hurrying along as though he had no time to waste. He turned several corners, and at last disappeared up the stairs that led to the pool-room. The detective, for that was what he was, did not seem to notice what had become of the German, but he marked the place where he had gone up and kept on to the station-house. There he changed his coat and hat, and picked up a huge walking-stick which stood in one corner. When he came out on the streets again, everybody noticed that he walked with difficulty, and there was an expression on his face which only those who were intimate with the detective would have thought belonged to him. It was very different from his ordinary appearance. Instead of the frank, open look with which he regarded everybody, it was drawn up as though he was suffering intense pain, from which he could not get a moment's relief.
The detective speedily found the place where the German had disappeared, walked wearily up the stairs, opened the door, and sank into the nearest chair. Then he pulled a pair of eye-glasses from his pocket and became interested in a paper. But he used his eyes to some advantage, and quickly discovered the man he wanted seated off by himself, with his legs outstretched before him and his chin resting on his breast.
"I guess he found some difficulty in getting that box," said the detective, who knew what Mr. Wiggins wanted of him before he came to the office. "You want to go easy, my friend, or I'll have you up for vagrancy again."
There were not so many in the pool-room as there were the night before, and nobody seemed to bother the German; but presently, while he was thinking about it, another party came in. He took off his coat, seized a cue, and looked all around the room for an antagonist, until he discovered the German sitting there doing nothing.
"Halloo, Claus!" he shouted, "come on, and let us have a game of billiards."
"No, you must excuse me," was the reply; "I don't feel in the humor for billiards or anything else."
"Have you anybody on a string that you are trying to make some money out of?" asked his friend. "Come on, and perhaps a game will brighten you up."