The boy with the amber glasses and his mother boarded the train and took possession of a seat. Soon afterward the tall man with the high-crowned derby and the trowel-shaped patent leathers sat down in the seat just behind them, and the train moved away from the depot.
CHAPTER II
On the Way to London
The trip to New York was begun early in the morning in order that they might reach their sailing point before dark. To Guy this part of the journey was monotonous, as he could not read and his mother advised him not to sit next to the window and look out, fearing lest the light injure his eyes, in spite of his amber glasses. The day was clear and bright, and the sun’s rays were reflected glitteringly from the clean, white snow on the ground.
Guy and his mother would have been greatly astonished if they had known of the interest in them entertained by the man in the next seat behind. Several times on the way between Ferncliffe and Boston, Guy got up and moved about, and two or three times he casually observed the prepossessing stranger. But the latter seemed always to be buried in a newspaper or book and oblivious to all about him.
The truth, however, was that Mr. Pickett took much more interest in the conversation of Mrs. Burton and her son than in his reading. While appearing to be reading most of the time, his occupation in this respect was largely a pretense, at least when the two in front of him spoke loudly enough for him to hear. Now and then he would turn a leaf for appearance sake, but not always did his eyes follow the printed line from one page to the next. However, his reading was not wholly affectation for occasionally he would turn back to pick up the thread of the narrative.
At Boston they changed cars, and again Mr. Pickett managed to get a seat immediately behind the two London-bound travelers. Once the amusing prattle of a baby a few seats back caused Guy to turn suddenly, and he was startled to observe the sharp eyes of the stranger staring at him with curious contemplation.
So deeply did the incident impress the boy that he turned again and looked at the man, but the latter was once more buried in his book. Guy then told himself that he must have misunderstood the gaze, that it probably was one of meditation or abstraction.
“Maybe he’s some professor of anatomy trying to figure out the diameter of a bonehead,” mused the boy. “I wonder who he is. It’s funny he happened to get the seat just behind us both times. Well, I’ll remember him anyway if I ever see him again.”
At New York Guy took a last curious look at the man with the high-crowned derby and then forgot him for the time being. The latter saw the boy and his mother enter a taxi and drive away, but he made no further attempt to watch their movements.
Mr. Pickett was a middle-aged bachelor living at a hotel near Central Park. Before starting for this place he ate supper at a restaurant. On arriving at the hotel he went direct to his room and wrote a letter, which he addressed to one A. Little in London. It was as follows: