"But how can you or any one else hope to run down a man with such
powerful followers and with a hiding-place so inaccessible?" Darrell
inquired.
"From a remark inadvertently dropped, I was led to infer that this man
spends comparatively little time with the band. He communicates with
them, directs them, and personally conducts any especially bold or
difficult venture; but most of the time he is amid far different
surroundings, leading an altogether different life."
"One of those men with double lives," Darrell commented.
Mr. Britton bowed in assent.
"But if that were so," Darrell persisted, his interest thoroughly
aroused, as much by Mr. Britton's manner as by his words, "in the event,
say, of your meeting him, how would you be able to recognize or identify
him? Have you any clew to his identity?"
"Years ago," said Mr. Britton, slowly, "I formed the habit of studying
people; at first as I met them; later as I heard or read of them. Facts
gathered here and there concerning a person's life I put together, piece
by piece, studying his actions and the probable motives governing those
actions, until I had a mental picture of the real man, the 'ego' that
constitutes the foundation of the character of every individual. Having
that fixed in my mind I next strove to form an idea of the exterior
which that particular 'ego' would gradually build about himself through
his habits of thought and speech and action. In this way, by a careful
study of a man's life, I can form something of an idea of his
appearance. I have often put this to the test by visiting various
penitentiaries in order to meet some of the noted criminals of whose
careers I had made a study, and invariably, in expression, in voice and
manner, in gait and bearing, in the hundred and one little indices by
which the soul betrays itself, I have found them as I had mentally
portrayed them."
Mr. Britton had risen while speaking and was walking back and forth
before the fire.
"I see!" Darrell exclaimed; "and you have formed a mental portrait of
this man by which you expect to recognize and identify him?"
"I am satisfied that I would have no difficulty in recognizing him," Mr.
Britton replied, with peculiar emphasis on the last words; "the work of
identification,"--he paused in front of Darrell, looking him earnestly
in the face,--"that, I hope, will one day be yours."
"Mine!" exclaimed Darrell. "How so? I do not understand."
"Mr. Underwood has told me that soon after your arrival at The Pines and
just before you became delirious, there was something on your mind in
connection with the robbery and Whitcomb's death which you wished to
tell him but were unable to recall; and both he and his sister have said
that often during your delirium you would mutter, 'That face! I can
never forget it; it will haunt me as long as I live!' It has always been
my belief that amidst the horrors of the scene you witnessed that night,
you in some way got sight of the murderer's face, which impressed you so
strongly that it haunted you even in your delirium. It is my hope that
with the return of memory there will come a vision of that face
sufficiently clear that you will be able to identify it should you meet
it, as I believe you will."