The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-08-27

the platform awaiting the train.
 "Hulloar' he cried pleasantly. "I wondered if you might be returning by my train"
 | So together we entered an empty | comparment and continued our chat. There was something about the man which struck me as indescribably mys- terious. Why. cannot tell. Some how he seemed unduly inquisitive re- | garding my recent movements. That he was a detective was. of course. out of the question. Besides, why should | the police keep observation upon my self? I had committed crime. So dismissed such weird thoughts from my mind.
 | Perhaps it was that. owing to my cosmopolitan existence, I had become distrustful of every stranger. Indeed, never travelled without a revolver in | my pocket. a habit acquired abroad, and one which had on many occasions secured for me peaceful night Alone. in a strange and lonely house. in strange land. it is really remarkable | what security one feels with a handy six-shooters under ones pillow. | Now. I confess that before we got | to Croydon entertained some shrewd | suspicion of my engaging fellow traveller who had given his name as | Grinfield. He had been a little too l ready to give me his card. and al- | ways distrust that action. Quickly made friendships have usually some ulterior moti1e. | And yet. as he sat back in the cor ner. enjoying his excellent cigar. there was nothing suspicious about him. | Nevertheless. why had he waited in Worthing to travel back with me? Once in the afternoon I had caught sight of him in the town.. but he had instantly disappeared. Had he. been watching my movements?
 Some of his remarks were certainly inquiries regarding myself And this linauisitiveness I naturally resented.
 This he apparently noticed. for while we were waiting in Croydon station he suddenly looked me straight in the face and said:
 "Mr. Ralston. see that you are just a little annoyed with me for prying into your affairs" and his bearded face relaxed into smile.
 Well" answered. T confess don't quite follow your object in ask ing certain of the questions you have
 asked I tell yo1sfrankly I consider it a bit of impertinence. How can my private affairs concern you-a perfect stranger? ?"
 They concern me greatly" was his
 prompt response. .I- admit that ] have been impertinent. and for that l
 apologize and ask your forgiveness
 You are no doubt annoyed-I should
 be if were in your place. You followed me down to Worthing Admit that?''
 aCertainly. admit that. came
 down with you in order to have 3
 chat"
 .9rhen I will leave, yon and get into
 another carriage.'' I said. rising ir
 anger.
 No, Remain here. We shall be ir Victoria in a few minutes" he urged
 .T want to speak to you in strictest Econfidence. If you answer my ques- tions nuthfully it will be distinctly tc yo,ir advantage.'' I looked him straight in the face in wonder. What could the stranger
 mean?
 At that moment the train moved slowly off: therefore I could only re. sume my seat
 Now. let us be frank. MT. Ralston.' | Sd1Q- the stranger. HIS QdIk eyes HASN upoI mine .'You are a cosmopolitan and we have met on many previou: occasions, though we have never spok
 en. Philip Ralston is known in al : the capitais-so am I. but unGer a d f ferent name to that I gave up this
 morning. M l "Then you are masoueradingr' cried resentfully. | tsOf nocoSSitu oOuld not axhihi 5 my hand at once to you" And what's in your hand. pray?" 1.-The winning cards-if you'll hell
 me to play them" ''I don't follow you" He laughed. "Of course you don't : But I will try to explain if you vii , reply to one or two simple questions. sswell?"
 You were in Bucharest quite re : eenty?" "I was.''
 And you were at the Hotel Boule Z ward with certain Granville Cough 2 | "I was. Why?"
 Mr. Cough is a friend of yours?'' "I have known him a good man! lyears."
 .Rather-er-well. rather an unde
 sirable acouaintance-shall we say?'
 "No.'' I replied. ''He is my friend r The stranger, who had given me
 false name. smiled rather sarcastical ly.
 Surely a rather dangerous friend MT. Ralston? Permit me to say so." ? .'No. I do not. permit you to sa. e anything against man who is m. friend.'' I exclaimed quickly.
 Not if that friendship constitutes e danger to yourself?''s ITO myself!'' cried. What dange need I fear2''
 l. Well one hardly likes to be know = as the friend or accomplice of an al v venturer.''
 'I choose my friends. and take tn
 risk was my response. He shrugged his shoulders and tos $ II ed the end of his cigar out of tn window