"Wot yer goin' ter do now?"

"Wait till he comes out."

This did not consume much time. In less than three minutes after he had
entered the building, Martin came running out. He looked greatly disturbed
and hurried down the street as fast as his long legs would carry him.

"Dere he goes!" exclaimed Mickety, in ill-suppressed excitement.

"Come on," returned Ralph. "He must not get out of our sight."

He started off, with the bootblack at his side. He looked at Mickety and
saw that the little fellow's head was about the size of his own, and that
he wore a large-brimmed soft hat.

"Let us trade hats for a while, Mickety. I can pull that down over my
face."

The exchange was quickly effected. With the soft hat bent down Ralph knew
he would stand a much greater chance of escaping detection at the hands of
Martin than before.

On went the man and his followers for fully a dozen blocks. Then Martin
turned into a very respectable side street, and, ascending the stone steps
of a large brick mansion, rang the bell.

A man came to the door and let him in. Then the door was tightly closed
once more.

"Dat's de end of dis case," muttered Mickety, in a disappointed tone.

"Not a bit of it, Mickety," returned Ralph. "See if you can hunt up a
policeman. In the meantime I will watch the house so that this man does not
get away."

CHAPTER XXXVII.

MARTIN IS TRAPPED.

Mickety at once went off to do as Ralph had requested. He was rather
doubtful about a policeman listening to his tale, but he resolved to do his
best.

In the meantime Ralph inspected the house, and wondered what sort of place
it was, and what had brought Martin there. His inspection ended in
disappointment, for nothing came to light.

Presently, however, a young girl came out of the basement of the house with
a pitcher in her hand. She was evidently a servant girl. A milkman drove
up, and from him she purchased a quart of milk.

Before she could return to the house, Ralph touched her on the arm.

"Excuse me, but I believe you live in that house," he said, pleasantly.

"I works there, sur," said the girl, in a strong Irish accent.

"Will you kindly tell me who lives there?"

"Mr. Martin Thomas, sur."

Ralph stared at this bit of information. Martin Thomas and the man he was
after were most likely the same individual.

"Did he just come in?"

"Yis, sur."

"He lives there alone, does he?"

"Oh, no, sur. There's another family occupyin