the lovely lady, but I asked: "You mean the
Irishman called Stumps?"
"Stumps!" exclaimed Kinney. "What a strange name. Too strange to be
true. It's an alias!" I was incensed that Kinney should charge the
friends of the lovely lady with being criminals. Had it been any one
else I would have at once resented it, but to be angry with Kinney is
difficult. I could not help but remember that he is the slave of his own
imagination. It plays tricks and runs away with him. And if it leads him
to believe innocent people are criminals, it also leads him to believe
that every woman in the Subway to whom he gives his seat is a great
lady, a leader of society on her way to work in the slums.
"Joe!" I protested. "Those men aren't criminals. I talked to that
Irishman, and he hasn't sense enough to be a criminal."
"The railroads are watched," repeated Kinney. "Do HONEST men care a darn
whether the railroad is watched or not? Do you care? Do I care? And did
you notice how angry the American got when he found Stumps talking with
you?"
I had noticed it; and I also recalled the fact that Stumps had said
to the lovely lady: "He told me I could come on deck as soon as we
started."
The words seemed to bear out what Kinney claimed he had overheard. But
not wishing to encourage him, of what I had heard I said nothing.
"He may be dodging a summons," I suggested. "He is wanted, probably,
only as a witness. It might be a civil suit, or his chauffeur may have
hit somebody."
Kinney shook his head sadly.
"Excuse me," he said, "but I fear you lack imagination. Those men are
rascals, dangerous rascals, and the woman is their accomplice. What they
have done I don't know, but I have already learned enough to arrest them
as suspicious characters. Listen! Each of them has a separate state-room
forward. The window of the American's room was open, and his suit-case
was on the bed. On it were the initials H. P. A. The stateroom is number
twenty-four, but when I examined the purser's list, pretending I wished
to find out if a friend of mine was on board, I found that the man in
twenty-four had given his name as James Preston. Now," he demanded, "why
should one of them hide under an alias and the other be afraid to show
himself until we leave the wharf?" He did not wait for my answer. "I
have been talking to Mr. H. P. A., ALIAS Preston," he continued. "I
pretended I was a person of some importance. I hinted I was rich. My
object," Kinney added
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