"It certainly looks it, Roger. That gallery—Well, I declare!"
"What is it?" asked the senator's son.
"Do you see that fellow in the front row in the balcony? The one next to the aisle?"
"Yes. What of him?"
"Looks to me like Link Merwell."
"Oh, Dave, you must be mistaken."
"I don't think so. It looks like Merwell, and Nat Poole said he was in Chicago."
"So he did. New you speak of it, he does look like Merwell. Wish we had an opera glass, we might make sure."
"I'll see if we can't borrow a glass," said Dave.
He looked around and saw that a lady directly in front of Jessie had a pair of glasses in her lap. He spoke to Jessie, and the girl asked the lady to lend her the glasses for a minute, and the favor was readily granted, for it was between the acts, and there was nothing on the stage to look at. Dave adjusted the glasses and turned them on the balcony.
"It's Merwell, right enough," he announced.
"Let me see," said the senator's son, and took the glasses from Dave. As he pointed them at the youth in the balcony, the latter looked down on Roger and those with him. He gave a start and then leaned forward.
"It's Merwell, and he sees us!" cried Roger.
