And Farr, stealing side glances at him, was more self-accusatory, more abashed.  He cherished the hope that they would be able to anticipate the departure of Dodd and the confederates from the cottage.  It was not clear to him just how he would make the incident serve, anyway.  He was conscious that he had grasped at any opportunity which would open the ears of the Honorable Archer Converse to a person who had accosted him on the street.  Finding somebody in the house would, at least, stamp his story with verity even if it served no purpose in the main intent of Farr’s efforts.

But on a well-lighted street corner the young man halted suddenly.

“It’s no use,” he informed the astonished Mr. Converse.  “Conscience has tripped me.  I can’t do it.”

“Do you mean to intimate that you have been tricking me, sir?”

“I mean to say, Mr. Converse, that I had proposed to take a half-hour or so and think up some method of honestly and properly interesting you in a matter which is very dear to me—­a public matter, sir.  But here is how I spent that half-hour.”

Frankly, simply, convincingly he related to his amazed listener the full story of what he had found in the cottage in Rose Alley.

“And therefore I had no time to ponder on my business with you—­I simply turned from the young lady, and there you were, sir, coming down the club steps.  I did the very best I could on short notice—­but what I did was very crude.  I apologize.  I suppose, under the circumstances, I may as well say ’Good-night’!” He raised his hat.

But there was something in all this which piqued Converse’s curiosity.

“Wait one moment.  This is getting to be interesting.”

A rather hazy conviction began to assure Farr that possibly chance had dealt a better stroke for him than well-considered planning.  It was surely something to know that the honorable gentleman was interested.

“If you had had time to think out a method of approaching me—­Let me see, your name is—­”

“Farr.”

“Mr. Farr, supposing I had been amenable to your suggestions, what is it you wanted of me?”

“I wanted you to attend a public meeting,” blurted the young man.  “They are men who need help—­they need—­”

“That’s sufficient,” snapped Converse.  “I am not in politics.  I do not address public meetings.  Mr. Farr, you would have wasted your time planning.  Absolutely!”

“But is there not some appeal that—­”

“Useless—­useless, sir.”  He tapped his cane, and his tones showed irritation.  He whirled on his heels.  “It is decidedly evident that you are a stranger in these parts, sir.  On that account I forgive your presumption.”

At that moment a jigger-wagon rumbled to a halt near them.  The corner light had revealed them to the driver.

“Mr. Farr,” called the man, “it hasn’t taken long for the news of what you did at the meeting to-night to travel around among the boys.  And we ain’t going to let you get ahead of us, sir.”