It’s a case of mistaken identity.
“Mark! Mark, thank God!” I ran up, grabbed his shoulders. He was was the sweetest sight in the world.
“Mark, listen. I don’t know — I was by the museum, just taking pictures, and this van rolled up and cops poured out, pointing and shouting at me. I ran down an alley, and I could hear sirens all around, so I headed for the hotel. I don’t know what’s going on, but –” I smiled, feeling sudden relief. “– but I’m damned glad I ran into you.”
Mark looked down at me, a slight frown. “I beg your pardon, sir. You have me mistaken for someone else.”