“No, not any more than—By Jove!” Bill checked himself suddenly. The remembrance of Chapin talking earnestly to Mersfeld and North came back to him.
“Ah!” exclaimed the professor knowingly, as he rubbed his hands. “I fancy we are getting at something. Now if our friend Tithonus Somnus were here we would get him to read the stars for us, but, in his absence I’ll venture to give you a bit of advice, Bill.”
“What is it, Mr. Clatter.”
“You may consider this in the light of a warning,” went on the medicine vendor earnestly. “Don’t have anything to do with the trick of painting the statue, Bill; or if you do—”
He paused significantly.
“Well, if we do?” repeated Bill.
“If you do, then play the double cross, and catch your enemies in the net they have spread for you,” was the reply in a low voice.
Bill started, and, as he did so there came a cautious knock at the door of the wagon.
“Who’s there?” asked the professor quickly.
“It’s me—Tithonus,” was the answer in a hoarse whisper. “Let me in—quick! The police are after me!”