"No, not quite alone, if you please, Mr. Leslie!" said a deep voice behind him, and at the same instant a hand was laid upon his shoulder. He turned, and met the powerful form and singular face of Dexter Ralston, the Virginian.
It was not unnatural that Leslie should be surprised; and it would be idle to say that he was not even startled at this most unexpected meeting, remembering what he did of the last three occasions on which he had met this man—in each instance, as he had reason to suppose, his observation being unknown to the other. He might have been pardoned if he even shuddered, remembering the connection which he believed Ralston to bear towards the "red woman"; and he was too ardent a Union man, as we have seen, not instantly to remember the ambiguous circumstances under which he had twice seen him, and the chase after him and his companions which had cost him so long a ride only a few days before. It may be said, in this place, that he had heard nothing from Superintendent Kennedy, before leaving the city, of the watch placed upon the house and its result,—and that after the second adventure of the house on Prince Street, and the opening of the new channel into which his thoughts and feelings had been led by the meeting with Joe Harris, he had not thought proper to follow up the mystery, and consequently had no knowledge that any of the parties had left New York.
All those thoughts, and the counter one that the man before him had really done him no harm but had once rendered him an important service—passed through the mind of Leslie so quickly that the other must have been a close observer to know that they were passing at all. As a result, by the time that they became fairly confronted and Dexter Ralston held out his hand, that of Tom Leslie met him with all apparent frankness.
"Mr. Ralston," he said, owning a part of the truth, "really you surprised me."
"So I suppose," said the other; "and yet I have been standing here, leaning against one of the posts of the Pavilion, for several minutes; and I am certainly not so small of stature as to be easily overlooked."
"No," laughed Leslie. And then he added. "But yonder is something larger. The Falls dwarf everything, and I suppose hide everything."
"Very probably," said Ralston. "Were you walking back towards the bridge? Shall I walk with you? That is—I mean to ask—are you alone?"
"Oh yes, all alone!" said Leslie. "I am at the Cataract. And you—are you staying here?"
"I have been staying at the Clifton," answered the other, as they strolled back across the Island. "But just now I am at the Monteagle. It is long since we met," he added. "You have been in Europe, have you not? I think you told me you were going, when I saw you last."
"Yes," said Leslie, "I have been in Europe again, and only came back last spring." But he added a mental enquiry that was by no means shaped into words: "Did I say to him that I was going to Europe? or does he keep watch of me and know my every movement, through the mysterious agency of the woman of the Rue la Reynie Ogniard?"