“My friend might want to buy a box of cigars,” said Mr. Newton.
“Oh, of course, if he’s coming here in the way of trade,” said the cigar man, “I’ve no objections to your waiting, but as a general thing I don’t like it.”
He tried to be polite, but it was hard work. He even got a chair for Mr. Newton to sit on, but all the time the cigar man seemed nervous and ill at ease. He kept watching the door, as though he expected someone to come in who would object to the reporter’s presence.
An hour passed, and there was no sign of the blue-handed man or any messenger from him. Several persons called, and got letters or packages from the boxes, but the document which Larry had placed in the envelope in accordance with the instructions contained in the personal, was not disturbed.
“I wonder if they are suspicious,” thought the reporter. “They may have someone on the watch, or the proprietor may have sent them word that a stranger is in the store, and advising them to be cautious. However, I’ll wait a while longer.”
Another hour passed, and it was getting on to eleven o’clock. Mr. Newton was about to give up his vigil as fruitless, when a youth entered, went quickly up to the box, and took out the envelope. Mr. Newton screened his face with a newspaper, but looked over the top of the sheet to see who the messenger of the mysterious gang was.
“Well, if it isn’t Peter Manton, who used to be a copy boy on the Leader!” thought Mr. Newton. “Well, of all things! To think of him being mixed up with that gang!”
He was so surprised that he forgot to keep the paper up in front of his face, and lowered the sheet. After getting the letter from the box, Peter glanced over in the corner where Mr. Newton sat. He recognized the reporter at once, and seemed much startled on beholding him.
Shoving the envelope containing the blank agreement into his pocket, Peter hurried out of the store.
“I must get after him!” thought Mr. Newton. He purchased a few cigars from the storekeeper to make some compensation for his long use of the chair, and, murmuring something about his friend probably having been detained, hurried from the place after Peter.