But he could not wisely make this call until the afternoon. So meantime
he took a stroll into Broadway and walked leisurely up and down that
thoroughfare, pausing occasionally to make a trifling purchase and
turning abruptly again and again in the attempt to discover who might be
following him. No one liable to be a detective of any sort could he
discern; yet he was too shrewd to be lulled into a false belief that his
each and every act was unobserved.

Mershone returned to his hotel, went to his room, and slept until after
one o'clock, as he had secured but little rest the night before in his
primitive quarters at the police station. It was nearly two when he
reappeared in the hotel restaurant for luncheon, and he took his seat
and ate with excellent appetite.

During this meal Mr. Fogerty also took occasion to refresh himself,
eating modestly at a retired table in a corner. Mershone's sharp eyes
noted him. He remembered seeing this youth at breakfast, and
thoughtfully reflected that the boy's appearance was not such as might
be expected from the guest of a fashionable and high-priced hotel.
Silently he marked this individual as the possible detective. He had two
or three others in his mind, by this time; the boy was merely added to
the list of possibilities.

Mershone was a capital actor. After luncheon he sauntered about the
hotel, stared from the window for a time, looked at his watch once or
twice with an undecided air, and finally stepped to the porter and asked
him to call a cab. He started for Central Park; then changed his mind
and ordered the man to drive him to the Von Taer residence, where on
arrival Diana at once ordered him shown into her private parlor.