“I’ll discover one—leave me alone for that,” said Enoch confidently.
“By the way,” said Kidd, “have you heard anything about your friend Pierre Jacquet?”
“Your friend, you mean,” laughed Cook. “I believe he is not expected to live.”
“I hope that is true.”
“You are exceedingly kind. Consider that, if the Frenchman dies, I shall be guilty of murder.”
“That’s so. I killed the wife, and now you have attended to the husband’s case.”
“Well,” remarked Enoch, “I guess I’ll ramble over to Mike Quick’s.”
“I’ll join you there bimeby.”
Instead of going to Quick’s, Cook went up-town. For hours he loitered about Union Square. It was there he had met Ajeeb. He hoped to meet him again. Nor was he disappointed.
At about ten o’clock, the Abyssinian passed him in Fourteenth Street. Ajeeb did not seem to recognize him. Then Enoch started in to do some shadowing. He followed the high priest to the latter’s house, and saw him ascend the stoop.