“Isn’t it true?” asked Larry, his faith in human nature somewhat shaken.
“It’s one of the oldest press-agent’s yarns that ever did duty in a circus,” said Mr. Newton. “If there were any freaks in the Ark, and they had a press agent, he told that story to the first reporter who interviewed him when Captain Noah’s boat landed on Mount Ararat.”
So Larry learned two things that day. One was that things old reporters think are fakes sometimes turn out to be true, and the other was that you can never believe a manager of the freak department of a circus. Both lessons were useful ones.
When he went out to lunch, Larry put his hand into the side pocket of his coat. He felt an envelope there, and thinking it was a letter which his mother might have given him to mail, and which he had forgotten, he pulled it out. He at once saw that it was no ordinary letter, for the envelope bore a large blue cross upon it.
“Where did that come from,” thought Larry. He opened it. Inside was a small piece of paper, on which was printed:
THREE DAYS MORE. BLUE HAND.
“That was what the tugging at my coat in the crowd at the Garden meant,” reasoned Larry. “Some one of the gang must have been close to me. They must be following me around, and keeping track of me wherever I go.”
At first this thought alarmed him. It was unpleasant to feel that someone was always looking at you, knowing your every movement so well that they could slip up, and drop notes into your pocket. Larry felt his courage leaving him. He half determined to agree to the gang’s wishes. Then, as he thought of what Mr. Newton had said, he grew braver, and decided to fight to the end.
That night, going home, Larry was in quite a crowd on the elevated train. He tried to keep watch, and see if anyone dropped anything into his pockets, but the crowd was so dense that it would have been an easy matter for a person to approach him closely, and escape detection.
So Larry was not greatly surprised, when, on reaching the street, he found another missive, in the same language.