“Yes, sir; take you there in less than twenty minutes, sir,” and the next moment he was rolling along toward the street he had named.
Arriving at 257 —— Street, which proved to be the office of a prominent Albany lawyer, with whom Mr. Temple had some acquaintance, he ordered the cabman to wait, and, entering the building, inquired for the gentleman.
He was told he was out, and might not be in for some time. Mr. Temple said he would wait, and, seating himself, took up a newspaper to pass the time away.
More than an hour elapsed before the lawyer came, when his visitor informed him that, as he was passing through the city and had a little time to spare, he thought he would improve it by making him a friendly call.
They chatted socially for half an hour or so, when Mr. Temple bade him good day and returned to the station.
Five minutes later he met his pursuer face to face on the platform. The Saratoga train was due to start in about ten minutes. Fifteen minutes after that a train was scheduled to return to New York.
Presently Mr. Temple repaired to the ticket-office. He was immediately followed thither by the one who was shadowing him.
“A ticket for New York, please,” he said to the agent.
A minute later the bit of pasteboard and the change were in his hands, when he turned abruptly to find a blank look of disappointment had overspread the face of the man at his elbow.
“Well, is your—curiosity satisfied at last?” he demanded, with a sneer. “I told you I was coming to Albany. I have transacted my business here, and now I have bought my ticket back to New York. Come on, if you want to keep this thing up, and I’ll give you a good time at that kind of racket.”