nsiderable astonishment.

"Yes, sir."

"What for?"

"I have my reasons for it."

"The villains that attacked you ought to be punished. They ought to be
in the hands of the police this blessed minute."

"You are right, ordinarily speaking, but I have work to do before I have
them locked up."

"Well, I'll do as you say."

"You see, I want to have them believe that I am really done for."

"I see."

"If they think that, I can follow them up wherever they go quite
easily."

"I don't see how. If they see yer----"

"I will be disguised."

"Oh! Goin' ter play a kind of detective part, be you?"

"That is what it amounts to, I suppose."

"It's a great plan, Mr. Carson. You have a long head on yer shoulders."

And the old man chuckled.

"Thank you. Then I can depend or you to----"

"I won't say a blessed word."

"And please caution Katie."

"All right. I will, sir."

"Thank you."

"But when you get through I'll expect to learn how you come out," said
McCabe, hastily.

"You can rest assured that I will let you know the full particulars. And
I am not going to forget what you have done for me, either."

"Shoo! that's all right. And say----"

At that moment Katie came flying into the apartment, her tangled hair
floating in all directions.

"He's downstairs and coming up!" she cried, shrilly.

"Who?" questioned her father, while Hal stood still in wonder.

"The tall boy who hit me."

"Dick Ferris!" muttered Hal under his breath. "What can he want here?"

CHAPTER XX.

FOLLOWING ALLEN.

Hal was astonished to learn from Katie McCabe that Dick Ferris was
coming up the tenement stairs.

"He can't be coming here!" exclaimed the youth.

"What shall we do if he does?" asked McCabe.

"I don't know. Perhaps I had better hide. He may----"

At that instant came a knock on the door.

"It's him!" whispered Katie.

Andy McCabe, the father, pointed to a closet. Hal tiptoed his way to it,
and motioned for Katie to follow. The door was closed, and then Andy
McCabe answered the summons.

Ferris stood at the door, his hair disheveled and his lips trembling.

"May I ask who lives here?" he asked.

"My name is McCabe."

"Isn't there a man by the name of Macklin living here?" went on Ferris.

"Macklin?" repeated McCabe, slowly.

"Yes, Tommy Macklin."

"Not as I know on. What does he do?"

"I don't know. I have a letter to deliver to him. So you don't know
where he lives?"

"No, sir."