I crossed Broadway and turned into Cortlandt,
sauntering along it until the Elevated loomed just ahead; I heard the
roar of an approaching train, and stopped to purchase some fruit at
the corner stand. My pursuer was some distance behind, closely
inspecting the bric-a-brac in a peddler's cart. The train rumbled
into the station, and, starting as though I had just perceived it, I
bounded up the stair, slammed my ticket into the chopper, and dived
across the platform. The guard at the rear of the train held the gate
open for me an instant, and then clanged it shut. We were off with a
jerk; as I looked back, I saw Martigny rush out upon the platform. He
stood staring after me for an instant; then, with a sudden grasping at
his breast, staggered and seemed to fall. A crowd closed about him,
the train whisked around a corner, and I could see no more.
But, at any rate, I was well free of him, and I got off at Bleecker
Street, walked on to the Square, and began my search. My plan was very
simple. Beginning on the east side of West Broadway, it was my
intention to stop at every house and inquire whether lodgers were
kept. My experience at the first place was a pretty fair sample of all
the rest.
A frowsy-headed woman answered my knock.
"You have rooms to let?" I asked.
"Oh, yes, monsieur," she answered, with an expansive grin.
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