ore, and then broke south and west across the White Lot between the
White House and the Monument. In the end it abandoned this diagonal
flight and soberly took to the center of a street that lay to the west
of the White House, and followed it to the Potomac.

Storri, hands in pocket and puffing an easy cigar, sauntered to the
water front and took a look at the drain where it finished. The
inspection gratified him; the drain was like a great tunnel; one might
have driven a horse and wagon into it. Storri was especially struck by
the fact that a considerable stream of water gushed from the drain's
mouth; the stream had a fair current, four miles an hour at least, and
showed a depth of full six inches. This was a discovery that set
Storri's wits in motion; the drain boxed in a living brook.

It was eleven o'clock that night when Storri returned to the mouth of
the drain; he was wrapped in a greatcoat and wore high boots. There
were no houses about; as for loiterers, the region was deserted after
dark. Storri looked out on the broad bosom of the river; he noticed that
even at low tide a boat drawing no more than eighteen inches might push
within a dozen feet of the drain.

Satisfied that no one observed him, Storri stepped to the mouth of the
drain and disappeared. He splashed along in the running water with his
heavy boots for something like a rod; then he stopped and lighted a
bicycle lantern which he took from his greatcoat pocket. The lantern
threw a bright flare after the manner of the headlight of a locomotive,
and Storri could hear the scurrying splash of the rats as it sent an
alarming ray ahead like a little searchlight. Being lighted on his way,
Storri kept steadily forward until, turning the corner where the drain
broke to the right across the White Lot, he was lost to sight.

As Storri disappeared, two men far behind him at the mouth of the drain
stood watching. They had thus far followed Storri dimly with their eyes
by the light he carried.

"What's become of him, Inspector?" whispered Mr. Duff, the shorter of
the men. "He hasn't doused his glim, has he?"

"No," replied Inspector Val, "there's a bend at that point."

"What's next?" asked Mr. Duff; "do we follow him in and collar him? or
do we just wait here?"

"Collar him!" repeated Inspector Val disgustedly. "I'd like to catch you
collaring him! Is this a time to talk of collaring, and we no further
than the threshold of the job? Let him alone; he's on