But he must find some way to get rid of his "shadow," in order that he might proceed to carry out his plans concerning the girl.
During his enforced leisure he invented a dozen apparently clever schemes, only to abandon them again as unpractical.
One afternoon, while on a stroll, he chanced to meet the bruiser who had attacked Arthur Weldon at the Waldorf, and been liberally paid by Mershone for his excellent work.

He stopped the man, and glancing hastily around found that Fogerty was a block in the rear.
"Listen," he said; "I want your assistance, and if you're quick and sure there is a pot of money, waiting for you." "I need it, Mr.Mershone," replied the man, grinning.
"There's a detective following me; he's down the street there--a mere boy--just in front of that tobacco store.

See him ?" "Sure I see him.

It's Fogerty." "His name is Riordan." "No; it's Fogerty.

He's no boy, sir, but the slickest 'tec' in the city, an' that's goin' some, I can tell you." "Well, you must get him, whoever he is.