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Willie was fairly paralyzed with astonishment. For a moment he stood staring dumbly at the card in his hand. Then he comprehended the situation. The man who had given him the cardboard was not a tramp, but a Secret Service agent; and his name was Sheridan. Something crooked was afoot among the bargemen, even as Willie had fancied might be the case. Sheridan was trailing the conspirators and needed help. At that thought, Willie’s indecision dropped from him like a cloak. He must act. Like a shot he started for the place Sheridan had pointed out, where there was a public telephone.

As he ran, he looked up South Street. The thoroughfare was full of vehicles and people. Still Willie could distinguish the bargemen from the remainder of the crowd, although they were now well up the street. Sheridan was not far away, and yet Willie had almost more difficulty in recognizing him than in distinguishing the bargemen farther up the street. Of course, there were several of the latter, and that made a difference. Sheridan was a single individual. But Willie quickly divined why there was this difference. Sheridan was keeping in close to the buildings, where he was much less conspicuous than persons in the middle of the walk.