“He had no intention until he learned of your sudden departure. He came down in the next train, to see what you were about. He is uneasy about you, Mr. Redfield, didn’t you know it? As he could ascertain nothing satisfactory about your doings, or mine, he had nothing better on his hands, this evening, than to look up his friend Bagley.”
“How do you know all this?”
The detective half smiled, his piercing eyes fixed reflectively on the fire.
“I should be poorly able to support my pretensions, if I could not keep the circle of my acquaintance under my observation. I was informed of his arrival in town, upon my return from Brooklyn, and have known of his whereabouts since. I could tell you what he had for supper, if it would interest you.”
The uneasy feeling which I had several times experienced in Mr. Burton’s society, came over me again. I spoke a little quickly:
“I wonder if you have your secret agents—spirits of the air, or electricity, they might almost seem to be—hovering always on my steps.”
He laughed, but not unpleasantly, looking me through with those steel-blue rays:
“Would it trouble you to fancy yourself under surveillance?”
“I never liked fetters, of any kind. I yield my choice of will and action to nobody. However, if any one finds satisfaction in playing the part of my shadow, I don’t know that I shall suffer any restraint upon that account.”
“I don’t think it would disturb you seriously,” he said.