“I've got some men on the next floor,” I said. “I thought it would be just as well to have a few around in case of emergencies. I'll have two of them out, and send Porter to reconnoiter.” “Who told you to git your men together?” “A little idea of my own.” “You've got some sense, after all.” The reinforcements were soon ready to take orders, and Porter returned to bring word that no suspicious person was in sight in the street. “I reckon I'd best go, then,” said Mother Borton. “I don't want no knife in me jest yit, but if there's no one to see me I'm all right.” I pressed Mother Borton to take two of my men as escort, but she sturdily refused. “They'd know something was up if I was to go around that way, and I'd be a bloody ghost as soon as they could ketch me alone,” she said. “Well, good night--or is it mornin'? And do take keer of yourself, dearie.” And, so saying, Mother Borton muffled herself up till it was hard to tell whether she was man or woman, and trudged away. Whatever designs were brewing in the night-meeting of the conspirators, they did not appear to concern my immediate peace of body. The two following days were spent in quiet, and, in spite of warnings, I began to believe that no new plan of action had been determined on. “Don't you feel too sure of yourself,” said Dicky Nahl, to whom I confided this view of the situation. “You won't feel so funny about it if you get prodded in the ribs with a bowie some dark night, or find your head wrapped up in a blanket when you think you're just taking a 'passy-ar' in Washington Square in the evening.” Dicky looked very much in earnest, and his bright and airy manner was gone for the moment. “You seem to get along well enough with them,” I suggested tartly, remembering Mother Borton's stories with some suspicion. “Of course,” said Dicky. “Why shouldn't I? They're all right if you don't rub the fur the wrong way. But I haven't got state secrets in my pockets, so they know it's no use to pick 'em.” I was not at all sure of Dicky's fidelity, in spite of his seeming earnestness, but I forbore to mention my doubts, and left the garrulous young man to go his way while I turned to the office that had been furnished by Doddridge Knapp. I hardly expected to meet the King of the Street. He had, I supposed, returned to the city, but he had set Wednesday as the day for resuming operations in the market, and I did not think that he would be found here on Monday. The room was cold and cheerless, and the dingy books in law-calf appeared to gaze at me in mute protest as I looked about me.