The Hills of Refuge: A NovelHarben, Will N. (Will Nathaniel)
General
The Hills of Refuge: A Novel
Harben, Will N. (Will Nathaniel)
Fiction
"Excuse me, sir," the stranger broke in, "but I am not satisfied about
what you have told me. I don't want to doubt your word, sir, but this is
a very grave matter. I have been looking for you for a year, hoping that
if I met you I'd learn something about my young friend. You yourself
make me doubt the story of the cattle-ship. It is the way you tell it, I
suppose. I think, sir, that we are playing at cross-purposes. I'm sure,
sir, that my young friend must have placed confidence in you. He showed
that, it seems to me, sir, by leaving the city with you as he did that
night. Nobody but two close friends would act as you did. You see, I
kept you in sight all the way to the boat-house. I crossed over myself
the next morning, and looked all about over there, but saw nothing of
you." Mason stood up. He was no longer afraid of the man, and yet he was
irritated by his persistence. He looked at his watch. "I must be going,"
he said. "I have an appointment down-town."
The stranger was on his feet also. "Don't leave me like this, sir," he
implored. "I have reasons to believe that our young friend would be glad
to see me if he could safely do so. Somehow I feel that he is here in
the city and that you know where he is."
"You are barking up the wrong tree," Mason said, crisply. "I know
nothing more than I have told you."
"But I have caught you in a contradiction--about the cattle-ship for
England, you see," and the man actually grasped Mason's lapel and clung
to it desperately. "I don't want to go back to Boston without some
favorable news. He has one true friend there who would do anything to
get news of him--a good kind lady and a relation of his. I haven't much
money, sir. I am only a poor servant with a sick mother to support out
of my earnings, but if you will give me some helpful information I am
willing to pay you."
"Pay me? Come off. What do you take me for?" Mason drew back and
detached his lapel from the man's clutch. "Do you think I don't know
your game? Well, I do, and let that end it. Good day."
Turning suddenly, Mason strode off toward Broadway. "That will settle
him, I guess," he muttered, "unless he calls a cop to take me in. That
was mushy sob-talk he was giving me. I guess he thought it would go
down, but it didn't. Good Lord! a man that can act like that ought to be
playing Hamlet. He is after that ten thousand dollars and he is willing
to work for it. Good gracious! he no doubt knows where I hang out.
Perhaps he dogged my steps here to-day and that startled look of
recognition was all part of his game. He and several others may now have
Mrs. Reilly's house under watch. Gee! that mountain town is the place
for poor Brown, after all!" He had reached the edge of the square when,
happening to glance back, he saw the stranger following him. "My Lord!
what is he up to now?" Mason said, under his breath. The man was
signaling to him with his handkerchief.
"Wait, sir!" he called out. "I must see you a moment."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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