As before, I sat in the last row of the rail carriage – this time not to observe, but to escape observation. Unfortunately, a man in a cheap suit sat beside me, foiling my plan. He was a most unpleasant gentleman – unshaven and reeking in both body and breath. I opened the window even though the air was far from warm and cinders would rain upon me.

Once the train started, he turned to me. “Where ya goin’?

“Yonkers.”

“Me too – never been there. You know a hotel?”

“There is a tavern with rooms across from the station. I hear the rates are good and the food passable,” I said without turning towards him.

He seemed to be waiting for me to continue the conversation. Instead, I retrieved a copy of Irving’s The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon the Sergeant had lent me and started reading.

After a few minutes, he said, “Funny you being from Yonkers, I’m going there to look for my little cousin. Maybe you have seen him? Here’s his likeness.” He passed me a daguerreotype of Alexander.

I hoped he did not notice my initial shock. I composed myself and studied the image for a while. “Ah, yes. I recall the lad. Rumor is he and his governess went to Boston a couple of weeks back.”

“That’s hard to believe. I’s told he was stayin’ with his uncle, just outside of town.”

“I would not know. It was just something I heard.”

He grunted.

I sat silent a while, pretending to read while my heart pounded and my mind raced. I wished I could bewitch this man as I had the man in grey. Then a thought occurred. I opened my shoulder bag and took out my dream stone.

“Since you were kind enough to share the image of your cousin with me, I thought you might like to see an interesting stone I have. See … if you hold it one way if looks like a face, while another way, it seems to be some kind of beast. Here, look closely – deep into the stone. Many feel quite relaxed as they look … even sleepy. I can see you are tired. Your eyes look heavy. You should close them …”

Shortly he was deep in the dream world.

“Why do you seek the boy?”

“I was sent to look for him.”

“Who sent you?”

“Clive van der Leyden.”

“And what are you to do if you find him?”

“Grab him if I can. If not, kill him.”

“And, if you can do neither?”

“Report what I have learned.”

“You will go straight to the tavern in Yonkers. You will ask no one about the boy. Tomorrow, you will take the noon train back to Manhattan and say that you could not find the boy in Yonkers, but several people told you he and his governess went to Boston.”

I thought for a while. The story was too vague. “You will say you talked to a man on the train, the station master, the postmaster and the innkeeper. All agreed that the boy had gone to Boston. Say also that you spied the house and saw no sign of the child. … Now tell me what you will report.”
He did. It seemed credible. I had one more thought. “Give me the daguerreotype. You will not notice it is gone until you are on your way back. Then you will think it lost.” I woke him with the usual good feelings just as we were pulling into the station..
“You better wake up, we are at Yonkers.”

“Oh, thank you. I must have dozed off.”

“You are quite welcome.”

It was only when I stepped off the train and saw the Sergeant that I realized that I was still dressed as a man. There was nothing to do but make a joke of it. I walked up to him. He was looking past me for my feminine self. “Excuse me sir, could you direct me to a hotel?” I said in a deep voice.

“Try the tavern over there,” he said, pointing, while still scanning the platform.

“Thank you.”

“Say, you did not see a husky young lady with brown hair on the train?”

“No, but let me introduce myself. Bill Newcome is the name,” I said extending my hand.

He looked at me, then did a double take. “What the shit!? Miss Nancy!?”

We shook hands and both roared with laughter.

“I’ll be damned. I looked right past you. You pulled a good one!” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder as he shook in a hearty laugh. “Please excuse the barracks language, I had a few pints while waiting.”

“And I am not exactly a lady today.”

On the ride back, the Sergeant asked, “Where’d you get the duds for your gag?”

“’Duds’?”

“You know, clothes.”

“Oh, from my friend Caroline. She is the companion of a widow. These belonged to the lady’s late husband.”

“Well, they fit you good! … And the moustache and beard – how’d you do that?”

“Caroline used a lock of my hair and a bit of gum.”

“Well, you sure had me fooled!”

“I’ll change back as soon as we get to the house.”

“No, you mustn’t. We’ve got to let the Capt’n see!”

When we got home, the Sergeant announced that he’d met an old friend at the station – Bill Newcome. When I walked in, Karl looked completely puzzled. I looked nothing like Bill Newcome, but Karl could not figure out who I was.

Finally he said, “Nancy? Is that you?”

“Yes, Karl, I am afraid it is.”

We all had another laugh. Then I changed the subject.

“I have something terribly important to report.”