"Twelve eighty-two," said the man after a moment's hesitation.

"What are you doing on this bridge?"

"I been across the river to see my brother."

"Why didn't you take the passenger's bridge then, instead of this?"

"This one is shorter for me."

"Oh, no, it isn't," said Harold quickly. "The other one takes you right
into Elm Street."

The man offered no comment.

"Why did you bend over down there a minute ago?" Harold asked.

No answer was forthcoming.

"Answer my question," ordered Harold curtly.

The man shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. "My shoe lace came
undone," he muttered finally. All the time he was talking he kept
looking behind him and over the route he had just come. He seemed to be
intensely nervous about something.

Harold looked at him up and down from head to foot, as best he could in
the poor light. He appeared undecided as to what he should do.

"You'd better come along with me," he said finally. "I guess the captain