But who were the other
two men, and why had they directed attention toward him? This was the
question at that moment. Oscar retired to one of the private club-rooms.
He wrought a marvelous change in his appearance. It was one of the most
magical transforms ever attempted, and having worked the change he
descended to the cafe. In the club our hero was not known as a
detective. He was registered there as a matter of business, and had
adopted but one initial, taking his middle name, so that under no
circumstances would Woodford Dunne and Oscar Dunne be recognized as the
same person. The club to him was a convenience for "fly" purposes. Once
in the cafe he saw the two men and the club member seated at a table
engaged in earnest conversation, and he heard the club member say:
"I still insist that you have made a mistake."
"How?"
"In the crowd you lost your man and have trailed the wrong man."
"I am certain he is the same man."
"But I know the man."
"Who is he?"
"I asked his name a few days ago. His name is Woodford Dunne. He is not
an officer--a bank clerk, I think, or possibly a traveling salesman. One
thing is certain: he was not trailing your man, not trailing any one."
The man who had asked "Who is he?" was thoughtful a moment and then
said:
"Our danger may be greater than you imagine.
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