ay there? I think we've had enough, Sogrange."

Sogrange hesitated. They were standing now in front of a tall gloomy
house, unkempt, with broken gate--a large but miserable-looking abode.
The passers-by in the street were few. The whole character of the
surroundings was squalid. The man pushed open the broken gate.

"You cross the street right there to the elevated," he directed. "If you
ain't coming, I'll bid you good-night."

Once more they hesitated. Peter, perhaps, saw more than his companion.
He saw the dark shapes lurking under the railway arch. He knew
instinctively that they were in some sort of danger. And yet the love of
adventure was on fire in his blood. His belief in himself was immense.
He whispered to Sogrange.

"I do not trust our guide," he said. "If you care to risk it, I am with
you."

"Mind the broken pavement," the man called out. "This ain't exactly an
abode of luxury."

They climbed some broken steps. Their guide opened a door with a
Yale key. The door swung to, after them, and they found themselves in
darkness. There had been no light in the windows; there was no light,
apparently, in the house. Their companion produced an electric torch
from his pocket.

"You had best follow me," he advised. "Our quarters face out the other
way. We keep this end looking a little deserted."

They passed through a swing door and everything was at once changed. A
multitude of lamps hung from the ceiling, the floor was carpeted, the
walls clean.

"We don't go in for electric light," their guide explained, "as we try
not to give the place away. We manage to keep it fairly comfortable,
though."

He pushed open the door and entered a somewhat gorgeously furnished
salon. There were signs here of feminine occupation, an open piano, and
the smell of cigarettes. Once more Peter hesitated.

"Your friends seem to be in hiding," he remarked. "Personally, I am
losing my curiosity."

"Guess you won't have to wait very long," the man replied, with meaning.

The room was suddenly invaded on all sides. Four doors, which were quite
hidden by the pattern of the wall, had opened almost simultaneously, and
at least a dozen men had entered. This time both Sogrange and Peter knew
that they were face to face with the real thing. These were men who came
silently in, no cigarette-stunted youths. Two of them were in evening
dress; three or four had the appearance of prize fighters. In their
countenances was one expression c