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Upon my honor,
he cannot escape." This was said with a charming politeness.
A tall figure arose at the wall end of one of the back seats. "I am
Marcus Wilkeson. What do you want with me, sir?" His voice trembled, and
his face was livid.
"To go with me to New York, Mr. Wilkeson," said the tall stranger,
quickly. "Thank you for your promptness in answering. The only clue that
I had, was the hasty measure I took of you this morning, when I was
watching for an escaped convict at Cortlandt-street ferry. Perhaps you
remember seeing me there, sir?"
Marcus, though the sudden shock had almost stunned him, at once recalled
the man who had eyed him narrowly at the ferry that morning.
The two other candle bearers had stepped forward as Marcus declared
himself, and were about to lay hold of him, when the first man smilingly
pushed them back, and said:
"Don't touch him. It's all right. Mr. Wilkeson is a gentleman, and will
go quietly."
To Marcus he said, apologetically:
"Two Jersey constables I got to assist me. They don't do things exactly
in the style of Detective Leffingwell.


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