demanded the
chief gruffly.

"Great Scott, didn't I, as soon as I could postpone your mania
for having me loaded down with police chains?"

"Yet how do I know you're telling me anything like the truth?"

"If I'm lying, you can find it out very quickly, can't you?" demanded
Darrin. "But come along, or you'll be too late. Oh, why do all
the biggest slow pokes in creation get appointed to the police
force?"

"Come along with me, Delmar," ordered Chief Simmons, turning to
one of his policemen. "The rest of you stay here---though you
can pass on into the open air. Then wait there for us."

"Don't you waste any time on worry, Dick," Dave called back.

Prescott laughed easily. Whatever Dave had discovered, or thought
he had, Darrin's chum was quite content now to await the result
of all that enthusiasm.

"We must not make much noise," cautioned Darrin, as he led the
way swiftly, though on tiptoe. "We don't want to scare the other
people cold until we have them cooped so that they can't get away.
But you'd better be ready, in case they're desperate enough to
try shooting!"

Up the street, to the head of another alley way, Darrin led the
swift chase.

"Now, softer than ever," he whispered, over his shoulder, without
halting.

A moment later Dave halted before two stone steps that led down
to a basement junk shop.

Just as he did so a low voice inside could be heard, saying in
barely audible tones:

"I'm so anxious to know whether Prescott fell into the trap that
I can hardly wait another minute."

"You'd better wait until morning, or you'll tumble into something
with your eyes shut, and that will mean both of us nabbed," growled
another voice.

"Do you think they found Prescott---that they believed in the
appearances against him?"

"I can't say," came the other low voice. "And I can wait. I'm
not crazy on the subject, as you seem to be."

"Explain this all over again, to us, won't you?" shouted the chief,
pushing open the door of the junk shop and striding in, backed
by the light and the revolver of Officer Delmar.

"What?" screamed Phin Drayne, then sank to his knees in the extremity
of his terror.

"Don't either of you try to put up any fight," warned the chief.
"Delmar, here are my handcuffs to put with your own. Hand me
your light, and then iron both of these fellows securely."

The owner of the junk shop, a man under thirty, dirty and low
browed, stood cowering back against a bench. Th