With this thought, and lowering his paper, Mason rose, sauntered carelessly along the walk to another bench, and sat down. Looking toward the arch, he saw the stranger coming in his direction. Opening the paper, Mason pretended to be reading, though he could still see the approaching man. He reached him, but, to his surprise, passed on. However, he came to a halt near by, and, with his hands in the pockets of his short coat, he stood staring hesitatingly at Mason. "He may be waiting for a policeman to help him take me in," was Mason's dejected mental comment. "I think I am in for trouble this time sure. I don't see any bluecoat about. I wonder if I'd better make a run for it?" He decided that such a course was impossible; the detective would blow a whistle and some one in the crowd would stop him; besides, the man looked as if he might be swift of foot. "We thwarted him before, and he will run no chances this time," Mason decided, gloomily, and he began drawing mental pictures of himself seated in the midst of a group of uniformed officers bent on locating the man in whose company he had been seen. The big price on the head of his friend was, no doubt, still offered, and that was inducement for extra work. Mason decided that he would lie with as straight a face as possible, though he was afraid that he might become tangled in his statements; the detectives might uncover discrepancies which could be turned against himself. There was no doubt that he was in a "pickle," as he put it, and he was both angry and alarmed. Charles had never alluded during their long friendship to the published charges against him, but somehow Mason had come to believe that his friend was not guilty. The stranger, with what looked like an absolutely timid expression of face and mien, was coming toward him. There was nothing to do but to brazen it out, and Mason braced himself for the most difficult ordeal of his life. The man stopped in front of him, bent forward, and said: "I beg your pardon, sir, but it seems to me that your face is somewhat familiar, and I was wondering if we have ever met before. I am a stranger in the city, sir, but I have an idea that I saw you a year ago here in New York." "It may be," Mason answered, conscious that he must make as few admissions as possible and yet not appear to be keeping back anything. Suddenly his line of procedure became clear to him. He would simply say to this man, and his associates, that he had not seen Charles for more than a year. How could they prove otherwise, for if they had known Charles to be with the circus they would have taken him? That point was clear and Mason now felt more confident. He found that he could calmly return the stranger's bland stare. In fact, he began to study the fellow. He fancied he knew the exact spot under the man's lapel where his metal badge was concealed.