"
"Well, you are a crank."
"A what?"
"A crank."
"What's a crank?"
"A fool."
"You call me a fool?"
"Yes."
The detective rose to his feet, assumed a fierce expression
and retorted:
"You're another."
The master of the "Nancy" had expected an assault when the
countryman assumed such a threatening attitude, and was
compelled to laugh when the danger simmered down to a mere
retort.
Ike Denman was amusing himself, and so was the detective.
"I reckon I've met you before," said the disguised officer.
"You think you've met me before?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Can't recall just now, but the faint remembrance don't bring
me a pleasant feeling."
"You are a fool," exclaimed Denman, and rising from his seat
beside the disguised detective he walked to the other end of
the car.
At length the train ran into the depot at Brooklyn, and the
few passengers went aboard the boat that was to convey them to
the city.
The detective was a happy man. He had accomplished a big
feat, and little dreamed of the terrible discovery he was
destined to make later on.
Upon reaching the city, Denman started down town and entered a
building occupied by a foreign importing horse.
The detective was at his wit's end. He was anxious to
overhear what passed between the master of the "Nancy" and the
members of the firm. In a moment his decision was made, and
it was founded on a cunning line of reasoning.
Our hero entered the store just as the private office door
closed behind Denman.
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