Yet
he said nothing and moved along very quietly, making, to all appearance,
for his room. Would he notice them as he went by? It did not seem likely.
Instinctively they had stepped to one side, and Mr. Ransom's face was in
the shadow. To both it had seemed better not to accost him while he was
in this mood. They would see him later.

But this was not to be. Some instinct made him turn, and Mr. Ransom,
recognizing his opportunity, stepped forward and addressed him by the
name under which he had introduced himself at the reception; that of his
wife's family, Hazen.

The effect was startling. Instead of increasing his anger, as the
detective had naturally expected, it appeared to have the contrary
effect, for every vestige of passion immediately disappeared from his
face, leaving only its natural disfigurement to plead against him.
He approached them, and Ransom, at least, was conscious of a revulsion
of feeling in his favor, there was such restraint and yet such undoubted
power in his strange and peculiar personality.

"You know me?" said he, darting a keen and comprehensive look from one to
the other.

"We should like a few words with you," ventured Gerridge. "This gentleman
thinks you can give him very valuable information about a person he is
greatly interested in."

"He is mistaken." The words came quick and decisive in a not unmelodious
voice. "I am a stranger in New York; a stranger in this country. I have
few, if any, acquaintances."

"You have _one_."

It was now Mr. Ransom's turn.

"A man with no acquaintances does not attend weddings; certainly not
wedding receptions. I have seen you at one, my own. Do you not recognize
me, Mr. Hazen?"

A twitch of surprise, not even Ransom could call it alarm, drew his mouth
still further towards his ear; but his manner hardly altered and it was
in the same affable tone that he replied:

"You must pardon my short-sightedness. I did not recognize you, Mr.
Ransom."

"Did not want to," muttered Gerridge, satisfied in his own mind that this
man was only deterred by his marked and unmistakable physiognomy from
denying the acquaintanceship just advanced.

"Your congratulations did not produce the desired effect," continued Mr.
Ransom. "My happiness was short lived. Perhaps you knew its uncertain
tenure when you wished me joy. I remember that your tone lacked
sincerity."

It was a direct attack. Whether a wise one or not remained to be seen.
Gerridge watched the u