He bent toward Armitage with a fierce insistence, his eyes blazing in his eagerness to be understood.
John Armitage turned again to the window, leaned lightly upon the iron railing and studied the title of a book attentively. He was silently absorbed for a full minute, in which the man who had followed him waited. Taking his cue from Armitage’s manner he appeared to be deeply interested in the bookseller’s display; but the excitement still glittered in his eyes.
Armitage was thinking swiftly, and his thoughts covered a very wide range of time and place as he stood there. Then he spoke very deliberately and coolly, but with a certain peremptory sharpness.
“Go ahead of me to the New American and wait in the office until I come.”
The man’s hand went to his hat.
“None of that!”
Armitage arrested him with a gesture. “My name is Armitage,—John Armitage,” he said. “I advise you to remember it. Now go!”
The man hurried away, and Armitage slowly followed.
It occurred to him that the man might be of use, and with this in mind he returned to the New American, got his key from the office, nodded to his acquaintance of the street and led the way to the elevator.
Armitage put aside his coat and hat, locked the hall door, and then, when the two stood face to face in his little sitting-room, he surveyed the man carefully.