As the man passed them, the light of a street lamp fell upon him.
Patsy caught the arm of Chick in a firm grip, and held it until the figure of the man passed far enough along to be beyond the possibility of hearing.
“It is the one I followed this morning,” he whispered.
“The deuce!” exclaimed Chick. “The one who wrote the letter—who went to sleep in the hotel?”
“Yes; in the disguise he put on after he ran away from the insurance building.”
“Get out and watch him,” said Chick to the lineman.
The young fellow did as he was told, and presently reported that the man was crossing Irving Place and going up Seventeenth Street to the west.
“Patsy,” said Chick, “go and rig yourself for the night’s work. I’ll take up the shadow and will give you the trail.”
Patsy was about to go off, but he waited to hear Chick say to the lineman:
“It isn’t worth your while to follow us longer.”