CHAPTER III.JOHN JONES.
“I want you!” whispered Nick.
How many luckless criminals have been startled by those words! How many have seen the prison or the gallows rise before them at the sound!
In this case, however, the words seemed to produce less than the ordinary effect.
The man to whom they were addressed turned suddenly toward the detective, but did not shrink or tremble.
“I beg your pardon,” said he; “I didn’t quite understand what you said.”
The man’s coolness made Nick even more in doubt about Gaspard’s identification.
After boarding the train they had walked through it hurriedly, and in the car next the engine Gaspard had clutched Nick’s arm, whispering:
“There is your man!”
The person indicated was well-dressed, rather good-looking, and about thirty-five years old. There
