“I had to go through several coaches before reaching the parlor cars, and as I was walking down the aisle of the last one I suddenly caught sight of Jamie sitting quietly in a seat on my left.—Sat there as if he’d never been off the train.” “Take it that’s the man you followed?” “The very one. Kept an eye on him through the station when we got in—South Station, not Back Bay—and when he took a taxi and drove off I skipped into another and slipped the driver a ten to keep his machine in sight but not get up too close. When Jamie’s taxi had led us six or eight blocks out Columbus or Huntington or one of those avenues, it made a sudden turn and shot around a corner to the right. Then there were more corners right and left until you couldn’t even tell where the State House was, but my man was on the job and kept behind like a shadow with a string to it. “All of a sudden he ran up to the curb and jumped off, coming to the door. ‘If it’s the fare ye want out o’ that car, he’s payin’ off and goin’ into the station.’ ‘What station?’ I asked. ‘North,’ says he, ‘down there where all them lights is. He’s on to us, an’ he’ll wait long enough to make ye think he’s took a train, an’ then git a taxi in there where they go in—out o’ sight. I got ye where ye can keep a squint on ’em as they come out. He’s liable to stoop down or cover up his face. Ye might know him by that.’ “And sure enough that’s just what happened. In, say, half an hour (he waited inside that long) we were after him again, but this time keeping so far away that he must have thought he’d thrown us off, for we got out into a sort of country region—houses far back into grounds and that sort of thing—most of ’em dark, too—people gone to bed. “At a corner out there, where Jamie’s taxi had made a turn to the right, my driver stopped before rounding it and listened, as he’d been doing since we’d got to where it was quiet. Rather suddenly he jumped off and hurried on to the corner, and after one look came running back and told me the other machine had pulled up near a street lamp some distance down the road and the fare was paying off. I got out and told him to wait for me—that I’d walk down a bit and look around. “I edged along at the side of the road and could see that Jamie had gone in at a gate or entrance; and very soon the taxi that brought him went plunging by on its way back to town. After some careful work to keep in the shadow, I came to the old gate, or rather old posts—there wasn’t any gate—and looking up the weedy and overgrown drive (I could see it for a little way by the light of the street lamp) I made out the black bulk of what must have been a large house back in among trees, and gloomy as a prison. There was a pale yellowish light in one window—that was all.