"We cannot be too cautious," his father answered.
In a few moments the prisoner was brought in, and there was a general
craning of necks to see him, a number of men in Darrell's vicinity
standing and thus obstructing his view.
"Wait," said his father, as he was about to rise with the others; "don't
make yourself conspicuous; when the man is called for examination you
will have an excellent view from here."
Curiosity gradually subsided, and the men sank back into their seats as
proceedings went on. Then the prisoner was called and stood up for
examination. Darrell drew a quick breath and leaned eagerly forward. The
man was of medium height and size, but his movements seemed heavy and
clumsy, whereas Darrell had been impressed by a litheness and agility in
the movements of the other.
He stood facing his interlocutor, affording Darrell a three-quarter view
of his face, but soon he turned in Darrell's direction, scanning the
crowd slowly, as though in search of some one.
Darrell saw a squarely built, colorless face, surmounted by a shock of
coarse, straight black hair, with heavy, repulsive features, and small,
bullet-shaped, leaden eyes of rather light blue. The face was so utterly
unlike what he had expected to see that he sank back into his seat with
a smothered exclamation of disgust. His father, watching closely,
smiled, seeming rather pleased than otherwise, but Darrell was half
indignant.
"The idea of a lout like that being taken for the leader!" he exclaimed.
"He is nothing but a tool, and a pretty clumsy one at that."
Notwithstanding his vexation, Darrell continued to watch the
proceedings, and in a few moments began to grow interested, not so much
in the examination as in the conduct of the prisoner. The latter
evidently had found the face for which he was looking, for his eyes
seemed glued to a certain spot. Occasionally he would shift them for a
moment, but invariably, with each new interrogatory, they would turn to
that particular spot, as the needle to the pole, not through any
volition of his own, but drawn by some influence against which he was
temporarily powerless.
"That man is under a spell; he is being worked by some one in the
crowd," Darrell exclaimed to his father, in a low tone.
"Yes, and by some one not very far from us; I have spotted him, see if
you cannot."
Following the direction of the man's glance, Darrell began to scan the
faces of the crowd. Suddenly his pulses gave a bound. Seated at a little
distance and partially facing them was a man of the same size and height
as the prisoner, but whose every move and poise suggested alertness. He
was leaning his arms on the back of the seat before him; his head was
lowered so that his chin rested lightly on one hand, while the other
hand played nervously with the seat on which he leaned. His whole
attitude was that of a wild beast crouched, ready to spring upon his
prey. He had an oval face, with deep olive skin, wavy black hair, cut
close except where it curled low over his forehead, and through the
half-closed eyes, fixed upon the prisoner's face, Darrell caught a
glint like that of burnished steel. For an instant Darrell gazed like
one fascinated; he had not expected such an exact reproduction of the
face as he had seen it on that night. His father touched him lightly; he
nodded significantly in reply.