aptain) gave me
the bearings of the affair--though, of course, being a creature of
handcuffs and bludgeons, he thought our friend Curtis was the real
scoundrel--I realized at once that Vassilan's indisposition was a bad
attack of blue funk. Such a man could no more remain quietly in his
room at the hotel than a fox terrier could pass a dog fight without
taking hold. As soon as I saw the Earl go out alone, and heard him
direct the taxi to the Central Hotel in 27th Street, I decided that my
best place was at the driving wheel of another taxi. I picked out a
man on the rank who was about my size, and might be mistaken for me in
a half-light, and got him to lend me his coat and cap. He took mine,
and a word to the door-porter fixed things so that I was whistled up
quite naturally when his countship appeared. He had changed his
clothes and linen, but one glance at his nose showed that I had marked
my bird, even if the porter hadn't given me the mystic sign at the
right moment. I received my orders, and off we went, a second cab
following, with the driver of my taxi as a fare. Evidently, the Count
was not well posted in New York distances, because he grew restive, and
wondered where I was taking him. He tried to be artful, too, and when
we reached East Broadway he pulled me up at the corner of Market
Street, told me to wait, and lodged a five-dollar bill as security,
saying I would have annozzaire when we got back to the hotel. Didn't
that make things easy? He plunged into the crowd--you know what a
bunch of Russians, Hungarians, and Polish Jews get together in East
Broadway about ten-thirty--so I rushed to the second cab, swapped coats
and hats again, gave the taxi-man the five-spot, and put him in charge
of his own cab. In less than a minute I overtook the Count, just as he
was crossing the street, and saw him enter a house, after saying
something to a second-hand clothes man who was bawling out his goods
from the open store on the ground floor. By the time I had bought two
silk handkerchiefs and a pair of boots, and was haggling like mad over
a collection of linen collars, size 16--a present for you,
Steingall--his nobility came downstairs, but not alone; there was a
girl with him. Luckily, she was no Hungarian, but Italian, and they
talked in broken English. 'They no come-a here-a now-a-time,
Excellenza,' she said, 'but you-a fin' dem at Morris Siegelman's
restaurant at 'alf-a-pass twelve.' He said something