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Bog's first impulse was to follow him at a distance; but his
curiosity to inspect the slender, perfumed letter, overcame it.
When Bog reached the awning in front of McFeeter's store--a sort of
haven or putting-in place for him--he pulled out the letter, and was
about to read it. Then it occurred to him that the situation was too
much exposed. The strange man might come back, and see him with the open
letter in his hand. Bog would have enjoyed a personal collision with him
on any pretext; but to be caught in the act of reading the letter, would
spoil the strategical advantage that Bog now had over him.
Bog moved on down a side street, and took his stand behind a huge
wooden column surmounted by a gilded mortar and pestle. Here he was
about to rip open the envelope, but a glance across the street
discovered a policeman looking at him. Bog felt guilty and awkward. He
coughed, and thrust the letter into his pocket, and moved on again. The
exciting events of the morning had made Bog intensely nervous. He did
not stop this time until he had gained his home.


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