It made their invitation to walk into the parlor almost too
obvious. But were the offer not genuine, there was a condition
attached to it that puzzled him. It was not the condition that
stipulated he should come alone. His experience had taught him many
will confess, or betray, to the district attorney who, to a deputy,
will tell nothing. The condition that puzzled him was the one that
insisted he should come at once or it would be "too late."
Why was haste so imperative? Why, if he delayed, would he be "too
late"? Was the man he sought about to escape from his jurisdiction,
was he dying, and was it his wish to make a death-bed confession;
or was he so reluctant to speak that delay might cause him to
reconsider and remain silent?
With these questions in his mind, the minutes quickly passed, and
it was with a thrill of excitement Wharton saw that Nolan had left
the Zoological Gardens on the right and turned into the Boston
Road. It had but lately been completed and to Wharton was
unfamiliar. On either side of the unscarred roadway still lay
scattered the uprooted trees and boulders that had blocked its
progress, and abandoned by the contractors were empty tar-barrels,
cement-sacks, tool-sheds, and forges. Nor was the surrounding
landscape less raw and unlovely. Toward the Sound stretched vacant
lots covered with ash heaps; to the left a few old and broken
houses set among the glass-covered cold frames of truck-farms.
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