Positively I can’t tell. I was too far away to see the dodge, but I felt sure that he had passed through the hack, paying the fellow to drive off as he did.
Therefore, instead of running after the hack down Twenty-third street, as a fool would have done, I shot over to lower Fifth avenue, and was just in time to spy my man walking on ahead at a rapid pace.
He had crossed the street while I was watching the hack.
Now I felt that I had no ordinary person to deal with. He knew me, and he knew that I knew him.
Twice he looked around, but I took care to remain as much as possible in the shadow of the buildings, so he did not see me. While I walked I changed my hat for another and put on English side whiskers—then I was a different man.
Where was he going?
I had not long to wait without knowing.
He hurried down Fifth avenue to Waverly Place—along Waverly Place to a certain side street, running up the stoop of the corner house. Before I could reach the spot he had passed inside.
Had I lost him?
At first I thought so, and was wondering what I ought to do when a policeman came along.