o find if
you follow."

Orme considered. Now that he was discovered, it would be futile to
continue the chase, since Maku, naturally, would not go to his
destination with Orme at his heels. But he said:

"You can't order me off the streets, Maku."

"I know. If you follow, then we walk an' walk an' walk--mebbe till nex'
week." Orme swore under his breath. It was quite clear that the little
Japanese would never rejoin the man who had the papers until he was sure
that he had shaken off his pursuer. So Orme simply said:

"Good-night."

Disappointed, baffled, he turned eastward and walked with long strides
back toward the car-line. He did not look to see whether Maku was behind
him. That did not matter now. He had missed his second opportunity since
the other Japanese escaped him in the university campus.

Crossing North Clark Street a block north of the point at which he and
Maku had left the car, he continued lakeward, coming out on the drive
only a short distance from the Pere Marquette, and a few minutes later,
after giving the elevator-boy orders to call him at eight in the morning,
he was in his apartment, with the prospect of four hours of sleep.

But there was a final question: Should he return to the all-night
restaurant near the car-barns and try to learn from the cashier the
address which Maku had sought? Surely she would have forgotten the name
by this time. Perhaps it was a Japanese name, and, therefore, the harder
to remember. True, she might remember it; if it were a peculiar
combination of letters, the very peculiarity might have fixed it in her
mind. And if he hesitated to go back there now, the slim chance that the
name remained with her would grow slimmer with every added moment of
delay. He felt that he ought to go. He was dog-tired, but--he remembered
the girl's anxiety. Yes, he would go; with the bare possibility that the
cashier would remember and would be willing to tell him what she
remembered, he would go.

He took up his hat and stepped toward the door. At that moment he heard a
sound from his bedroom. It was an unmistakable snore. He tip-toed to the
bedroom door and peered within. Seated in an arm-chair was a man. He was
distinctly visible in the light which came in from the sitting-room, and
it was quite plain that he was sound asleep and breathing heavily. And
now for the second time his palate vibrated with the raucous voice of
sleep.

Orme switched on the bedroom lights. The man ope