"Well, I wish to be able to identify you easily in a crowd. If I know how you are dressed, it might be valuable in several other ways also. We may have to change our plans, in which event it will be easier for me if I know how you look." "I do not exactly understand," said I, "but I presume you do." "Precisely. You may learn in time." As we emerged from the Club a newsboy came up to Oakes, from whom he bought a paper, and as he did so, the boy said: "Martin says you are followed, sir." Oakes turned to me: "Meet me as I said; and do as I do afterwards in everything. I shall be forced to change my plans." The boy had gone after another customer, and Oakes continued: "Martin is my aide; he has posted me. Good-by! See you later. Explain some other time." We parted, and I went about my preparations for departure with that exhilaration that men feel when about to enter into some strange undertaking. It was to be a novel experience for me, and I frankly confess that certain misgivings haunted me. That I was entering, willingly, to be sure, upon a journey of many possibilities I did not for one moment doubt; that I should need the weapon already purchased, and the utmost coolness that I could muster, seemed to me more than likely. At this date I felt nothing akin to fear, and the knowledge that Quintus Oakes was to be our leader prevented a too serious estimate of the possible consequences. Later on I did feel some regrets at having hurled myself into the episodes that followed, but this feeling vanished soon in the excitement of the events that transpired at Mona. Shortly before the appointed time I arrived at the station and strolled about the rotunda in search of Oakes. I espied him at the paper stand, dressed in a dark heavy overcoat and a hat like mine. His recognition of me was instantaneous, but he made no movement until, after buying a paper, he walked past me to the door. Looking at me with a glance that warned me, he stepped out and into a car that was approaching. I jumped on the same car, and in a very few moments he and I were going up the Sixth Avenue Elevated stairway, but acting as strangers to one another. There were many persons boarding the Harlem train with us. It was a tiresome ride to the terminus, but when Oakes and I stepped out and down to the street, he jumped into a carriage in waiting, drawn by a pair of horses, and beckoned to me. I stepped in also, and sat by his side on the back seat. The driver started at a quick pace across the bridge and into Jerome Avenue. Oakes turned to me: "It seems that my movements are watched by men in a rival agency. I have detected no followers, but time will tell if they exist. I saw a fellow watching me at the station, and we may have easily been followed on the elevated train; in such a crowd one cannot detect." "Why do they watch you, Mr. Oakes? Are they suspicious that we are going to Mona?"