On the day after receiving this communication, Lyon, while walking the floor in one of the parlours, saw a man pass in from the street, and go hurriedly along the hall. The form struck him as strangely like that of his friend from whom he was hourly in expectation of another letter. Stepping quickly to the door of the room, he caught a glimpse of the man ascending the staircase. To follow was a natural impulse. Doubt was only of brief continuance.
“David!” he exclaimed, on reaching his own apartment. “In the name of heaven! what does this mean?”
“That you are in danger,” was replied, in a tone that made the villain’s heart leap.
“What?” The two men retired within the apartment.
“I fear they are on our track,” said Leach.
“Who?”
“The law’s fierce bloodhounds!”
“No! impossible!” The face of Lyon grew white as ashes, and his limbs shook with a sudden, irrepressible tremor.
“Speak out plainly,” he added. “What evidence is there of danger?”
“In my last letter, you will remember, I expressed some fear on this head, and mentioned my purpose to go to Washington and assume a disguise.”
“I do, and have felt troubled about it.”
“Well, I was off by the early train on the next morning. As good or bad luck would have it, the very man who sat next me in the cars was an individual I had met in the family of Mr. Ellis. He knew me, but played shy for some time. I pretended not to recognise him at first, but turning to him suddenly, after we had been under way for ten minutes or so, I said, as if I had but just become aware of his identity, ‘Why, how are you? I did not know that I had an acquaintance by my side.’ He returned my warm greeting rather distantly; but there was too much at stake to mind this, and I determined to thaw him out, which I accomplished in due time. I found him a free sort of a man to talk, after he got going, and so I made myself quite familiar, and encouraged him to be outspoken. I knew he had heard something about my adventure at Mr. Willet’s, and determined to get from him the stories that were afloat on that subject. All came in good time. But the exaggeration was tremendous. Fanny had concealed nothing from her father, and he nothing from Mr. Willet. I was known as your agent and accomplice, and there was a plan concocting to get possession of my person, and, through me, of yours. ‘Take a friend’s advice,’ said the man to me, as we stepped from the cars at Washington, ‘and give—a wide berth in future.’ I did take his advice, kept straight on, and am here.”
“Confusion!” The pallid face of Lyon had flushed again, and was now dark with congestion.
“When will the next boat leave for Vera Cruz?” inquired Leach.
“Day after to-morrow,” was answered.
“We are in peril here every hour.”
“But cannot leave earlier. I hope your fears have magnified the danger.”
“If there be danger at all, it cannot be magnified. Let them once get you in their hands, and they will demand a fearful retribution.”
“I am well aware of that, and do not mean to be left in their power.”
“The telegraph has, no doubt, already put the authorities here on the alert. My very arrival may have been noted. It will not do for us to be seen together.”
“Ha! I did not think of that!” Lyon was more deeply disturbed. “You had better go from here at once. Where is your baggage?”
“I ordered it to be sent up.”
“Let me see after that. At once pass over to the Levee; go on board the first boat that is leaving, whether bound up the river or for Galveston. Only get off from the city, and then make your way to Mexico. You will find me there.”
Fear had now seized upon both of the men, and each saw consternation in the other’s face.
“I am off at the word,” said Leach, as he grasped the hand of his companion.
“Be discreet, self-possessed, and wary.” Lyon spoke in a warning voice.
“I will. And you take good heed to the same advice.”
The men were yet standing face to face, each grasping the other’s hand, when both partly turned their heads to listen. There was a sound of feet at the upper end of the passage, just at the landing, and it came rapidly nearer. A breathless pause marked the deep interest of the listeners. A few moments of suspense, in which Lyon and his companion grew deadly pale, and then the noisy footsteps were silenced at their very door. A smothered sound of voices was followed by a trial of the lock, and then by a decided rapping. But no answer was made to the summons.
Noiselessly, Mr. Lyon drew from a deep side-pocket a loaded revolver; but the hand of his companion was laid quickly upon his arm, and his lips, in dumb show, gave the word—
“Madness!”
Lyon shook him off, and deliberately pointed his weapon toward the door.
“Hallo, there! Are you asleep?”
This loud call came after repeated knocking and rattling. But there was no response, nor the slightest indication of life within the chamber.
“They are here, I am certain.” These words were distinctly heard by the anxious inmates.
“Then we must break in the door,” was resolutely answered.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, put up that pistol!” hoarsely whispered Leach. “Such resistance will be fatal evidence against us. Better open the door and put a bold face upon it.”
“Too late!” was just whispered back, when the door flew open with a crash, and the body of the man who had thrown himself against it with a force greatly beyond the resistance, fell inward upon the floor. At the same instant, Lyon exclaimed, in a quick, savage voice—
“Back, instantly, or you are dead men!”
There was such a will in the words he uttered, that, for a moment, the men, four in number, fell back from the open door, and in that instant Lyon sprung past them, and, ere they could recover themselves, was beyond their reach. His friend made an attempt to follow, but was seized and made prisoner. The time spent in securing him was so much of a diversion in favour of Lyon, who succeeded in getting into the street, ere the alarm extended to the lower part of the house, and passing beyond immediate observation. But escape from the city was impossible. The whole police force was on the alert in half an hour, and in less than an hour he was captured, disguised as a sailor, on board of a vessel ready cleared and making ready to drop down the river. He yielded quietly, and, after being taken before the authorities in the case, was committed for hearing in default of bail. The arrest was on a requisition from the governor of New York.
CHAPTER XLII.
FANNY had not hesitated a moment on the question of communicating to her father the singular occurrence at Mr. Willet’s; and Mr. Markland was prompt not only in writing to two or three of the principal sufferers by Lyon in New York, but in drawing the attention of the police to the stranger who had so boldly made propositions to his daughter. Two men were engaged to watch all his movements, and on no pretence whatever to lose sight of him. The New York members of the Company responded instantly to Markland’s suggestion, and one of them came on to confer and act in concert with him. A letter delivered at the post office to the stranger, it was ascertained, came by way of New Orleans. A requisition from the governor of New York to deliver up, as a fugitive from justice, the person of Lee Lyon, was next obtained. All things were thus brought into readiness for action, the purpose being to keep two police officers ever on the track of his accomplice, let him go where he would. Inquiries were purposely made for this man at the hotel, in order to excite a suspicion of something wrong, and hasten his flight from the city; and when he fled at last, the officers, unknown to him, were in the cars. The telegraph gave intelligence to the police at New Orleans, and all was in readiness there for the arrival of the party. How promptly action followed has been seen. On the day after Lyon’s arrest, he was on his way northward, in custody of two officers, who were already well enough acquainted with his character to be ever on the alert. Several attempts at escape were made, but they succeeded in delivering him safely in New York, where he was committed to prison.