rty to decide."

And with a few parting words of caution the Irishman took his departure,
first pausing long enough to advise Tom to change his quarters if he was
spared until the morrow, and suggesting that the wisest thing he could do
was to get out of New York as speedily as he knew how.

As may well be imagined, Tom Gordon was not likely to fall asleep again
that night, so, having fully dressed himself, he sat down on the edge of
the bed to wait and watch.

A small transom over his door admitted enough light to discern objects
with sufficient distinctness in the room, and he carefully shoved the bolt
in place, feeling he was prepared for any emergency.

Even with such an exciting subject to occupy his thoughts, he could not
fail to wonder and fear for his missing friend. He prayed Heaven to watch
over the boy's footsteps and to prevent his wandering into any danger,
while the feeling that the poor fellow was already beyond all human help
weighed down the heart of Tom like a mountain of lead.

This suspense did not continue long when the watchful lad heard some one
ascending the stairs--an action which might mean nothing or a great deal.

The room occupied by the boy was along a narrow hall, perhaps fifty feet
in length, the apartment being half that distance from the head of the
stairs.

It seemed to Tom that there was an attempt to smother the sound made by
the feet, which plainly belonged to two people, though the effort was far
from being a success.

"They may be going to their own room, after all"--

The heart of the lad gave a great bound, for at that instant the footsteps
paused directly in front of his own door, and he could hear the men
muttering to each other in low tones.

"They're looking for me," was the conclusion of the boy, who grasped his
pistol more rigidly, and rose to the standing posture.

"If they want me, all they've got to do is to take me."

What was the amazement of the youth to see at this moment, while his eyes
were fixed upon the door, the iron bolt slowly move back, without, so far
as he could see, the least human agency.

This was a house, indeed, in which such characters were given every
facility they could wish to ply their unholy vocation.

Immediately after the fastening went back, the latch was lifted, and the
door swung noiselessly inward.

As it did so, a head, covered only with a mass of shock hair, which hung
down like pieces of tarred rope, and with the lower