The suppressed excitement contained in these words made George stare.Indeed,he had been wondering for some time at the manner of the detective which showed a curious mixture of several opposing emotions.Now,the fellow was actually in a tremble of hope or impatience;-and,not content with listening,he peered every few minutes down the well of the staircase,and when he was not doing that,tramped from end to end of the narrow passage-way separating the head of the stairs from the door he had pointed out,like one to whom minutes were hours.All this time he seemed to forget George who certainly had as much reason as himself for finding the time long.But when,after some half hour of this tedium and suspense,there rose from below the faint clatter of ascending footsteps,he remembered his meek companion and beckoning him to one side,began a studied conversation with him,showing him a note-book in which he had written such phrases as these:
Don't look up till he is fairly in range with the light.
There's nothing to fear;he doesn't know either of us.
If it is a face you have seen before;-if it is the one we are expecting to see,pull your necktie straight.It's a little on one side.
These rather startling injunctions were read by George,with no very perceptible diminution of the uneasiness which it was only natural for him to feel at the oddity of his position.But only the demand last made produced any impression on him.The man they were waiting for was no further up than the second floor,but instinctively George's hand had flown to his necktie,and he was only stopped from its premature re-arrangement by a warning look from Sweetwater.
"Not unless you know him,"whispered the detective;and immediately launched out into an easy talk about some totally different business which George neither understood,nor was expected to,I dare say.
Suddenly the steps below paused,and George heard Sweetwater draw in his breath in irrepressible dismay.But they were immediately resumed,and presently the head and shoulders of a workingman of uncommon proportions appeared in sight on the stairway.
George cast him a keen look,and his hand rose doubtfully to his neck and then fell back again.The approaching man was tall,very well-proportioned and easy of carriage;but the face -such of it as could be seen between his cap and the high collar he had pulled up about his ears,conveyed no exact impression to George's mind,and he did not dare to give the signal Sweetwater expected from him.
Yet as the man went by with a dark and sidelong glance at them both,he felt his hand rise again,though he did not complete the action,much to his own disgust and to the evident disappointment of the watchful detective.
"You're not sure?"he now heard,oddly interpolated in the stream of half-whispered talk with which the other endeavoured to carry off the situation.
George shook his head.He could not rid himself of the old impression he had formed of the man in the snow.
"Mr.Dunn,a word with you,"suddenly spoke up Sweetwater,to the man who had just passed them."That's your name,isn't it?""Yes,that is my name,"was the quiet response,in a voice which was at once rich and resonant;a voice which George knew -the voice of the impassioned speaker he had heard resounding through the sleet as he cowered within hearing in the shed behind the Avenue A tenement."Who are you who wish to speak to me at so late an hour?"He was returning to them from the door he had unlocked and left slightly ajar.
"Well,we are -You know what,"smiled the ready detective,advancing half-way to greet him."We're not members of the Associated Brotherhood,but possibly have hopes of being so.At all events,we should like to talk the matter over,if,as you say,it's not too late.""I have nothing to do with the club -"
"But you spoke before it."
Yes."
"Then you can give us some sort of an idea how we are to apply for membership."Mr.Dunn met the concentrated gaze of his two evidently unwelcome visitors with a frankness which dashed George's confidence in himself,but made little visible impression upon his daring companion.
"I should rather see you at another time,"said he."But -"his hesitation was inappreciable save to the nicest ear -"if you will allow me to be brief,I will tell you what I know -which is very little."Sweetwater was greatly taken aback.All he had looked for,as he was careful to tell my husband later,was a sufficiently prolonged conversation to enable George to mark and study the workings of the face he was not yet sure of.Nor did the detective feel quite easy at the readiness of his reception;nor any too well pleased to accept the invitation which this man now gave them to enter his room.
But he suffered no betrayal of his misgivings to escape him,though he was careful to intimate to George,as they waited in the doorway for the other to light up,that he should not be displeased at his refusal to accompany him further in this adventure,and even advised him to remain in the hall till he received his summons to enter.
But George had not come as far as this to back out now,and as soon as he saw Sweetwater advance into the now well-lighted interior,he advanced too and began to look around him.
The room,like many others in these old-fashioned tenements,had a jog just where the door was,so that on entering they had to take several steps before they could get a full glimpse of its four walls.
When they did,both showed surprise.Comfort,if not elegance,confronted them,which impression,however,was immediately lost in the evidences of work,manual,as well as intellectual,which were everywhere scattered about.
The man who lived here was not only a student,as was evinced by a long wall full of books,but he was an art-lover,a musician,an inventor and an athlete.
So much could be learned from the most cursory glance.A more careful one picked up other facts fully as startling and impressive.
