the Bowery, he retraced his
steps, but now, with the hurried shuffle of Larry the Bat where before
had been the brisk, athletic stride of Jimmie Dale.

At Astor Place again, he took the subway, this time to the Grand
Central Station--and, well within an hour from the time he had left the
Sanctuary, including the train journey to Pelham, he was standing in a
clump of trees that fringed a deserted roadway. He had passed but few
houses, once he was away from Pelham, and, as well as he could judge,
there was none now within a quarter of a mile of him--except this one
of old Luther Doyle's that showed up black and shadowy just beyond the
trees.

Jimmie Dale's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the place. It was little
wonder that, known to have money, an attempt to rob old Doyle should
have been made in a place like this! It was even more grimly significant
than ever of some deeper meaning that, in its loneliness an ideal place
for a murder, the man should have been lured from there for that purpose
to a crowded tenement in the city instead! What did it mean? Why had
it been done? He shook his head. The answer would not come now any more
than it had come before in the subway, or in the train on the way out,
when he had set his brain so futilely to solve the problem.

From a survey of the house, Jimmie Dale gave attention to the details of
his surroundings: the trees on either side; the open space in front, a
distance of fifty yards to the road; the absence of any fence. And then,
abruptly, he stole forward. There was no light to be seen anywhere about
the house. Was it possible that Connie Myers was not yet there? He
shook his head again impatiently. Connie Myers would not have wasted any
time--as the Tocsin had said, there was always present the possibility
that the crime in that tenement might be discovered at ANY moment.
Connie Myers would have lost no time; for, let the discovery be made,
let the police identify the body, as they most certainly would, and they
would be out here hotfoot. Jimmie Dale stood suddenly still. What did it
mean! He had not thought of that before! If old Doyle had been murdered
HERE, there would not have been even the possibility of discovery until
the morning at the earliest, and Connie Myers would have had all the
time he wanted!

WHAT WAS THAT SOUND! A low, muffled tapping, like a succession of hammer
blows, came from within the house. Jimmie Dale darted forward, reached
the side of the house, a