Part 8 (1/2)

”Ya, ya, der Bort--Bort Charlotte.”

”Is this the way to Charlotte?”

”To be certainly. When you come five miles auf, den you stand by der Bort, sure.”

”And so that is where the big woman and the little man were going?”

asked Fox carelessly.

”Sure, sure,” said the landlord with a knowing wink; and then taking a very large pinch of snuff, and laying his forefinger the whole length of his rosy nose, added with an air of great importance and mystery, ”I tell you, py Jupiter, I don't let somebody got rooms _here_!”

”That's right, old fellow!” said Fox, slapping the honest beer-vender on the shoulder. ”Be unhappy and you will be virtuous!”

”Vell,” continued the Teuton, excitedly lapsing into his own vernacular, ”_es macht keinen unterschied_; I don't got mein leefing dot way. I--I vould pe a bolitician first!”

Fox expressed his admiration for such heroism, and purchased a cigar to a.s.sist the landlord in his efforts to avoid the necessity of either renting rooms to ladies and gentlemen of Mrs. Winslow's and Le Compte's standing, or of accepting the more unfortunate emergency of becoming a ”bolitician.”

Then they both seated themselves outside the house, underneath the shaded porch, and chatted away about current events, Fox all the time directing the conversation in a manner so as to draw out the genial Teuton on the subject which most interested him, and was successful to the extent of learning that Le Compte was what the landlord termed a ”luffer,” evidently meaning a loafer; that several months before, they came there together desiring a room, which had been refused; but he had directed them to the Port, where they had evidently been accommodated, as they had after that, until this time, regularly went in that direction, always stopping at his place for a gla.s.s of his best brandy; and that they had also always came there together until within a few weeks, since when, for some reason, this Le Compte had walked out to the hotel, where she had overtaken him with her carriage and driver, when the driver would be sent back to the city, and Le Compte taken in for the drive to Charlotte, as Fox had seen. He also learned that on their return, which was generally towards evening, the driver met them at the same place, when the latter took the reins, and Le Compte, somewhat soiled from his trip, walked into the city.

Fox concluded that there would be no better time than the present to learn something further concerning Le Compte, and after enjoying himself in the vicinity for a short time, came back to the hotel, took a hearty German dinner, and after another stroll secured a room for a short nap, as he told the landlord, but really for the purpose of observation.

About six o'clock he saw the driver coming to the hotel from towards Rochester, and in about a half an hour afterwards noticed the carriage containing Mrs. Winslow and Le Compte coming down the road from Charlotte. The couple seemed very gay and lively, and drove up to the hotel with considerable dash and spirit. They both drank, as in the morning, while the driver resumed his old place by the side of Mrs.

Winslow; and as they were about to depart, Fox heard the woman say to Le Compte: ”No, not again until Sat.u.r.day; I'll try to be a little earlier.” Then the carriage went away, Le Compte loitering about for a few minutes, after which he started off on a brisk walk towards town.

As the evening was drawing on, Fox hurried down to the bar-room, paid his bill, and bidding his host good-by, trudged on after the little fellow, keeping him well in sight, though remaining some distance behind to escape observation, but gradually closing in upon him, until, when they had arrived within the thickly settled portion of the city, they were trudging along quite convenient to each other.

The lamps now began to flare out upon the town, and the gay shops were lighted as Fox followed his man in and out, up and down the streets. Le Compte first went to a restaurant just beyond the Arcade in Mill street, where he got his supper, and afterwards promenaded about the streets in an aimless sort of a way for some little time, after which he returned to the Arcade and seemingly anxiously inquired for letters at the post-office. He got several, but was evidently either disappointed at what he had received, or at not receiving what he had expected. In any event he cautiously peered into Lyon's closed offices, as if hoping to find some one there. Disappointed in this also, he went directly to State Street, near Main, where, after looking about for a moment, he suddenly disappeared up a stairway leading to the upper stories of a large brick block. Fox quickly followed, and was able to catch sight of the little fellow just as he was entering a room at the side of the hall. He waited until everything was quiet, and then approached the door. The light from the single jet in the hallway was not sufficient for the purpose, but with the aid of a lighted match he was able to trace upon a neat card tacked to the door the inscription:

B. JEROME LE COMPTE, POSITIVE, PROPHETIC, HEALING AND TRANCE MEDIUM.

Psychrometrist, Clairvoyant, and Mineral Locater.

As Fox had succeeded in ”locating” his man, he returned to his boarding-house, wrote out his report and posted it, and after carelessly dropping into the restaurant under Was.h.i.+ngton Hall, where he took a dish of ice-cream and found means to inform Bristol of the latest development, he returned and retired for the night well satisfied with his day's work, and fully resolved to be on hand for Sat.u.r.day's sport at Charlotte.

I received Fox's report the next noon, and not a half-hour afterwards the splendid Harcout came rus.h.i.+ng in.

”Pinkerton, Pinkerton,” he exclaimed excitedly, ”here's something which we must attend to at once--at once, mind you, or--bless my soul! I'm afraid I left it at the St. Nicholas. How could I be so careless!”

Harcout grew red in the face and plunged into all his pockets wildly, utterly regardless of his exquisite make-up, until quite exhausted.

”Why, Harcout, you're excited. Tell me what's the matter, my man,” said I, rea.s.suringly.

”Matter? matter? everything's the matter. Here's something which should be acted upon at once, and like an a.s.s I've left it at the hotel. I'll go back and get it immediately.”

”Get what?” I asked him.

”Get a letter that I just received from Lyon. He's there all by himself, and they will draw him into some terrible confession. But I--I must get the letter,” and Harcout grabbed his hat and gloves and started.

”Hold on, Harcout,” I called to him, ”what is that you have in your hand?”

”In my hand? Oh, just a private note I got in the same mail.”