et him. Passing quietly along, he came to the large
switch-yards, and here he was almost deafened by the rumble and noise of
the trains, and the screeching and puffing of the engines. Here Manning
paused awhile in the hope of seeing his man among the number of brakemen
engaged about the yard; but finding no one that answered his
description, he approached a party of men standing near, and inquired:

"Can you tell me where I will find Bob King?"

"Bob is not working to-day, and you will probably find him at the Union
House, yonder," was the reply, as the man stretched his dirty finger in
the direction indicated. Thanking the man, he passed through the yard to
the street upon the opposite side. Here he found a long row of houses of
various descriptions, but all of them apparently occupied as
eating-saloons, boarding-houses and hotels. On the corner of the street,
and directly opposite from where the detective stood, was a low,
dingy-looking frame building, with the name of Union House painted
across the front.

"Here we are," said Manning to himself, "and we will soon ascertain if
Mr. King is about."

So saying he crossed the street and entered the office or waiting-room
of the hostelry. An old settee, a half-dozen or more well-whittled
wooden arm-chairs, a rusty stove set in a square box filled with
saw-dust, were about all the movable furniture which the room contained.
In the corner, however, was a short counter behind which, arranged on
long rows of hooks, were suspended a number of hats, caps and coats of a
decidedly miscellaneous character.

An ancient-looking register, filled with blots and hieroglyphics, lay
upon the counter, and as the room was empty, Manning walked toward the
open volume and examined the names inscribed thereon. Under the date of
the preceding evening, he found the name he was looking for, and a
cabalistic sign on the margin designated that he had lodged there the
night before and indicated that he might still be in the house.

While he was thus standing, a frowsy-headed young man, whose face was
still shining from the severe friction of a coarse roller-towel, which
hung behind the door, entered the room, and saluting the detective
familiarly, proceeded to comb his hair before a cracked mirror that hung
behind the desk. After he had hastily finished this operation, he turned
again to Manning, who had been smilingly observing his movements.

"Have you had breakfast, sir? last table just re