the only pedestrians that had ventured forth
that night in a locality so uninviting. On either side the houses
pressed closer upon them. Touching a wall here and there, John Steele
experienced the vague sensation that he had walked that way on other
occasions, long, long ago. Or was it only a bad dream that again stirred
him? Through the gulch-like passage swept a cold draft of air; it made
little rifts in the fog; showed an entrance, a dim light. At the same
time the sound of the footsteps in front abruptly ceased.

For a few minutes Steele waited; he looked toward the place Dandy Joe
had entered. It was well-known to him, and, what seemed more important,
to Mr. Gillett; the latter would remember it in connection with the
'Frisco Pet; presumably turn to it as a likely spot to search for him
who had been forced to leave Captain Forsythe's home. That
contingency--nay, probability--had to be considered; the one person he
most needed to find had taken refuge in one of the places he would have
preferred not to enter. But no time must be lost hesitating; he had to
choose. Dismissing all thought of danger from without, thinking only of
what lay before him within, he moved quickly forward and tried the door.

It yielded; had Dandy Joe left it unfastened purposely to lure him
within, or had his potations made him unmindful? The man outside neither
knew nor cared; the mocking consciousness that he had turned that knob
before, knew how to proceed, held him. He entered, felt his way in the
darkness through winding passages, downward, avoiding a bad step--did he
remember even that?

How paltry details stood out! The earthen floor still drowned the sound
of footsteps; the narrow hall took the same turns; led on and on in
devious fashion until he could hear, like the faint hum of bees, the
distant rumble from the great thoroughfares, somewhere above, that
paralleled the course of the river. At the same time a slant of light
like a sword, from the crack of a door, gleamed on the dark floor before
him; he stepped toward it; the low sound of men's tones could be
heard--Joe's; a strange voice! no, a familiar one!--that caused the
listener's every fiber to vibrate.

"And what did you say, when he pumped you for the cote?"

"That you would rather call on him."

"And then he cared nought for the job? You're sure"--anxiously--"he
wasn't playing to find out?"

The other answered jocosely and walked away; a door closed behind him.
For