thought
of it since it had rolled out of the hollow image.

Danbury led the way out the door as soon as Wilson had finished
dressing. The latter felt in one of the vest pockets and drew out a
ten dollar bill. He stared from Danbury to the money.

"Tuck it away, man, tuck it away," said Danbury.

"I can't tell you----"

"Don't. Don't want to hear it. By the way, you'd better make a note of
the location of this house in case you need to find me again. Three
hundred and forty Bellevue,--remember it? Here, take my card and write
it down."

It took them twenty minutes to reach the foot of Beacon street, and
here Wilson asked him to stop.

"I've got to begin my hunt from here. I wish I could make you
understand how more than grateful I am."

"Don't waste the time. Here's wishing you luck and let me know how you
come out, will you?"

He reached forth his hand and Wilson grasped it.

"I will."

"Well, s'long, old man. Good luck again."

He spoke to the chauffeur. In less than a minute Wilson was alone
again on the street where he had stood the night before.

CHAPTER VII

_The Game Continues_

It was almost noon, which made it eight hours since Wilson was carried
out of the house. He had had less than four hours' sleep and only the
slight nourishment he had received at the hospital since he and the
girl dined at midnight, yet he was now fairly strong. His head felt
sore and bruised, but he was free of the blinding ache which so
weakened him in the morning. An austere life together with the rugged
constitution he inherited from his Puritan ancestors was now standing
him in good stead. He turned into the narrow street which ran along
the water front in the rear of the Beacon Street houses and began his
search for the gate which had admitted him to so many unforeseen
complications. The river which had raged so turbulently in the dark
was now as mild and blue as the sky above. A few clouds, all that were
left of the threatening skies of the morning, scudded before a
westerly breeze. It was a fair June day--every house flooded with
sunshine until, however humble, it looked for the moment like a
sultan's palace. The path before him was no longer a blind alley
leading from danger into chaos.

He found that nearly a third of the houses were closed for the summer,
and that of these at least one half had small doors leading into
fenced courtyards in the rear. There was not a single mark by which he
might ide