When the boy had departed, Randall Clayton sank back in his chair.
"Whatever happens," he musingly decided, "I will never expose Irma
to the dangers of this espionage. They may have other agents by
day, who knows! And, if I wish to safely meet her, it must be over
there."

His thought were wandering far away across the black, flowing tide
of the East River, where the Brooklyn Bridge was now traced in line
of living light against the darkness of night.

Over there, beyond the gloomy river warehouses, with their forests
of masts, across the swiftly rushing tide seeking the unknown sea,
the graceful Queen of his awakened heart was hidden from him. "I
shall find her out; nothing shall part us; she shall hear me yet;
she shall learn to look for my coming, and she shall open the gates
of her home to me. Her heart shall beat against my own."

For, in all the sweep of a lover's imagination, he only saw her,
at the end of the veiled pathway, with love lighting her softly
shining eyes, and her beloved hand waving him on.

While he still wandered in a Fool's Paradise, the crafty office boy
was hastening across the great span which hangs its curving arch
from Manhattan to Long Island.

Einstein was driven on by his gnawing greed of money. "Fritz must
know this at once," he muttered. These business detective fellows
are dangerous, and could easily break up his little game.