When we least expect it the Ideal meets us in the street of the Commonplace and locks arms with us.Nevermore shall we choose our paths uninfluenced.A new leaven has entered our personality to dominate and direct it.
The new advertisement duly appeared and on the next day, which was Wednesday - I remember it because it was my hospital day - I received several written answers, and among them, one in which I felt confident I recognised the peculiar z*'s and r*'s of Weltz and Rizzi.
I took it at once to Maitland.He glanced at it a moment and then impulsively grasped my hand."By Jove, Doc!" he exclaimed, "if this crafty fox doesn't scent the hound, we shall soon run him to earth.You see he has given no address and signs a new name.We are to write to Carl Cazenove, General Delivery, Boston.Good! we will do so at once, and I will then arrange with the postal authorities to notify me when they deliver the letter.Of course this will necessitate a continuous watch, perhaps for several days, of the general delivery window.It is hardly likely our crafty friend will himself call for the letter, so it will be imperative that someone be constantly on hand to shadow whomsoever he may send as a substitute.May I depend on your assistance in this matter?""I will stand by you till we see the thing through," I said, "though I have to live in the Post Office a month."Well, I wrote and mailed the decoy letter and Maitland explained the situation to the postal authorities, who furnished us a comfortable place inside and near the general delivery window.They promised to notify us when anyone called for our letter.Our vigil was not a very long one.On Thursday afternoon the postal clerk signalled to us that Carl Cazenove's mail had been asked for, and, while he was consuming as much time as possible in finding our letter, Maitland and I quietly stepped out into the corridor.The sight that met our gaze was one for which we had not been at all prepared.There at the window stood a beautiful young girl just on the verge of womanhood.Her frank blue eyes met mine with the utmost candour as I passed by her so that she should be between Maitland and me, and thus unable to elude us, whichever way she turned upon leaving the window.We had previously planned how we should shadow our quarry, one on each side of the street in order not to attract attention, but these tactics seemed to be entirely unnecessary, for the young lady did not have the slightest suspicion that anyone could be in theleast interested in her movements.She walked leisurely along, stopping now occasionally to gaze at the shop windows and never once turning to look back.She did not even conceal the letter, but held it in her hand with her porte-monnaie, and I could see that the address was uppermost.A strange sensation came over me as I dogged her steps.I felt as an assassin must feel who tracks his victim into some lonely spot where he may dare to strike him.It was useless for me to tell myself that I was on the side of justice and engaged in an honourable errand.A single glance at the girl's delicate face, as frank and open as the morning light, brought the hot blush of shame to my cheek.In following her I dimly felt that, in some way, I was seeking to associate her with evil, which seemed little less than sacrilege.I could do nothing, however, but keep on, so I followed her through Devonshire Street, to New Washington and thence down Hanover Street almost to the ferry.Here she turned into an alleyway and, waiting for Maitland to come up, we both saw her enter a house at its farther end.
George glanced hastily up at the house and then said, as he seized me impatiently by the arm: "It's a tenement house; come on, the chase is not up yet; we, too, must go in!"So in we went.The young lady had disappeared, but as we entered we heard a door close on the floor above, and felt sure we knew where she had gone.We mounted the stairs as noiselessly as possible and listened in the hall.We could distinguish a woman's voice and occasionally that of a man, but we could not hear what passed between them.On our right there was a door partly ajar.Maitland pushed it open, and looked in.The room was empty and unfurnished, with the exception of a dilapidated stove which stood against the partition separating this room from the one the young lady had entered.Maitland beckoned to me and I followed him into the room.There was a key on the inside of the door which he noiselessly turned in the lock.He then began to investigate the premises.Three other rooms communicated with the one of which we had taken possession, forming, evidently, a suite which had been let for housekeeping.Everything was in ill-repair, as is the case with most of the cheap tenements in this locality.The previous tenant had not thoughtit necessary to clean the apartments when quitting them, - for altruism does not flourish at the North End, - but had been content to leave all the dirt for the next occupant.
