“Do you think so?”

“I reckon you think so yourself.”

“Mebbe I do; and I’m too smart for you.”

“I reckon you are.”

“Yes, I am, as you’ll find.”

“I’ve found it out already.”

“I reckon you have.”

“Do you go clean through to the city?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Where do you hang out?”

“I haven’t made up my mind.”

The pretended countryman assumed a very knowing look.

The master of the “Nancy” was amused; he thought he had struck a character.  Well, he had, but he had no idea of the real character of the man; he thought he was joking for amusement.

“Were you ever ‘nipped’ by a Yorker my friend?”

“No siree, and I don’t mean to be.”

“So you live on the island?”

“Yes.”

“And you won’t tell me your name?”

“No, I won’t.”

“What harm would there be in telling your name?”

“You’re too anxious to learn my name.  What’s your name?”

“My name is King.”

“Your name is King, eh?”

“Yes.”

“You live in York?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“No,”

“Where do you live?”

“On the island.”

“You live on the island?”

“Yes.”

“Never heard of anyone by the name of King on the island.”

“You never did?”

“Never.”

“That’s strange.”

“No, it ain’t strange, because no one by the name of King ever lived there.”

“Do you know a family by the name of Manuels?”

“See here, Mr. King, you can’t pump me.”

“I am not pumping you, I am only asking you civil questions.”

“I am not answering civil questions to-day.”

“Well, you are a crank.”

“A what?”

“A crank.”

“What’s a crank?”

“A fool.”

“You call me a fool?”

“Yes.”

The detective rose to his feet, assumed a fierce expression and retorted: 

“You’re another.”

The master of the “Nancy” had expected an assault when the countryman assumed such a threatening attitude, and was compelled to laugh when the danger simmered down to a mere retort.

Ike Denman was amusing himself, and so was the detective.

“I reckon I’ve met you before,” said the disguised officer.

“You think you’ve met me before?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Can’t recall just now, but the faint remembrance don’t bring me a pleasant feeling.”

“You are a fool,” exclaimed Denman, and rising from his seat beside the disguised detective he walked to the other end of the car.

At length the train ran into the depot at Brooklyn, and the few passengers went aboard the boat that was to convey them to the city.

The detective was a happy man.  He had accomplished a big feat, and little dreamed of the terrible discovery he was destined to make later on.