It was
apparent that he wished to avoid his friends, and to do this
effectually he had probably hidden himself in one of the rabbit
warrens of Nassau Street, where the King of England or the Czar of
all the Russias might hide for a lifetime and never be found. But
Masters could be "located," no doubt of that. "It only needs patience
and alertness," said Lacey, looking straight into Madeleine's
vigilant eyes. "I have a friend on the police force down there who
will spot him before long and send for me hot-foot."
It was Lacey's intention to sublet a small office in one of the
swarming buildings, put a cot in it and a cooking stove, and transfer
Masters to it as soon as he was found. He knew what some of Masters'
haunts were and had no intention that this delicate proud woman
should see him in any of them.
When she told him that she should never leave Masters again after
his whereabouts had been discovered, he warned her not to take rooms
in a hotel. There would be unpleasant espionage, possibly newspaper
scandal. There was nothing for it but Bleecker Street. It was
outwardly quiet, the rooms were large and comfortable in many of
those once-fashionable houses, and it was the one street in New York
where no questions were asked and no curiosity felt.
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