For an instant, I was
tempted to cross to him, and get him out of danger. Then I smiled at
the absurdity of the thought. It would take a clever man to fleece
Martigny, and I recalled his strong face, his masterful air--he was no
fool, no lamb ready for the shears. He was perfectly able to look out
for himself--to wield the shears with power and effect, if need be.
I turned west toward Broadway, still, I suppose, thinking of him
subconsciously: for a few moments later, some irresistible impulse
caused me to glance around. And there he was, walking after me, on the
opposite side of the street! Then, in a flash, I understood. He was
following me!
It is difficult to describe the shock that ran through me, that left
me numbed and helpless. For an instant, I stumbled on, half-dazed;
then, gradually, my self-control came back, and with it a certain
fierce joy, a hot exultation. Here, at last, was something definite,
tangible, a clew ready to my hand, if only I were clever enough to
follow it up; a ray of light in the darkness! I could feel my cheeks
burning, and my heart leaping at the thought!
But what had been his part in the affair? For a moment, I groped
blindly in the dark, but only for a moment. Whatever his share in the
tragedy, he had plainly been left behind to watch us; to make sure
that we did not follow the fugitives; to warn them in case of danger.
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