asked me about the Singer Building."

"I see," said Kinney. "Well, these two men were just outside my
window, and, while I was searching for my pipe, I heard the
American speaking. He was very excited and angry. 'I tell you,'
he said, 'every boat and railroad station is watched. You won't be
safe till we get away from New York. You must go to your cabin,
and STAY there.' And the other one answered: 'I am sick of hiding
and dodging.'"

Kinney paused dramatically and frowned.

"Well," I asked, "what of it?"

"What of it?" he cried. He exclaimed aloud with pity and
impatience.

"No wonder," he cried, "you never have adventures. Why, it's plain
as print. They are criminals escaping. The Englishman certainly
is escaping."

I was concerned only for the lovely lady, but I asked: "You mean
the Irishman called Stumps?"

"Stumps!" exclaimed Kinney. "What a strange name. Too strange to
be true. It's an alias!" I was incensed that Kinney should charge
the friends of the lovely lady with being criminals. Had it been
any one else I would have at once resented it, but to be angry with
Kinney is difficult. I could not help but remember that he is the
slave of his own imagination. It plays tricks and runs away with