From time to time this thought came back to the clerk, till he formed a resolution quietly to follow Congreve, after the close of the performance, and ascertain where he lived.
Congreve, seated in front, was not aware of the presence of the clerk, or he might have taken measures to defeat his design.
When James Congreve left the theater, he was at first inclined to stop at Delmonico’s on the way uptown, and indulge in a little refreshment; but he felt somewhat fatigued with his day’s travel, and, after a moment’s indecision, concluded instead to return at once to his boarding place.
“He lives in a nice house,” said the clerk to himself. “Let me notice the number. I may find it desirable to know where to find him.”
To anticipate matters a little, word came to New York in the afternoon of the next day that two bonds, the numbers of which were given, had been stolen from Colonel Ross, and search was made for the young man who was suspected of having negotiated them. The clerk, who, previous to returning the bonds to Congreve, had taken down the numbers, at once identified them as the ones referred to, and gave information to the police.
The result was that just as Congreve was sitting down to supper on the evening of the second day, he was informed that a man wished to see him at the door. On answering the call, he saw before him a small man, of quiet manner, dressed in a sober suit of black.
“You name is Congreve, I believe?” he said, politely,
“Yes, sir,” answered James, in a hesitating tone.
“Then I must trouble you to go with me.”
“I have just sat down to supper.”