"I shall take no offense."

"No! I am glad to hear you say that. Come to my room, d.y.k.e, and I will tell you something that may open your eyes a little."

The detective complied, and when they were seated Harry poured out his confidence.

"I am glad you have been thus frank with me, Harry," said the detective when his friend had finished. "I have heard enough of late to convince me that Elliston is a wolf in sheep's clothing!"

"And that is one point gained."

"It is."

"And I believe that it was Elliston who penned the decoy letter."

"I am more than half convinced that such is the case," admitted d.y.k.e Darrel.

"Have you investigated?"

"Thoroughly, since I came into town. I learned that Nell got off at the depot, and that she met a red-haired man, and entered a hack with him. After that all is blank."

"That confirms my suspicions, d.y.k.e." "What is that?"

"This man with the florid looks meeting Nell, and going away from the depot in her company, Professor Ruggles, is a friend of Elliston's."

"Indeed!"

"It is true. I believe before another day pa.s.ses, the place of the girl's seclusion can be found. Down on Clark street is Mother Scarlet's place, a played-out old hag, and she has been hand and glove with this red-haired man for some time."

"Mother Scarlet!" exclaimed the detective. "I have met her; she is the aunt of the Martin Skidway who is now serving out the remainder of his term for counterfeiting."

"The same, I suppose. I move that we visit her den, and see what we can find."

"Agreed. Let us go at once."

d.y.k.e Darrel came to his feet.

"One moment, d.y.k.e."

"Well."

"You are too well known by the crooks of this city to move about without disguise."

"I will fix that. I will meet you again in an hour."

And then d.y.k.e Darrel hurried away.

It was almost dark when two men, one old and gray, with a hump on his shoulder, called at a dingy old brick on Clark street and rapped on a narrow door that opened into an alley.

No answer was vouchsafed.

Then the old man turned the k.n.o.b, but the door refused to yield.

"What's wanted, you fellers?"

The voice came from behind the two men. Turning, they saw a stout, ill-looking fellow, with unkempt hair and beard, peering in at them from the street.

"Ain't this the house where Mrs. Scarlet stops," questioned the elderly man.

"Mebbe 'tis."

"Where's the woman now?"

"Bless your soul, old man, I don't know. Better call agin; she's allus in evenings," suggested the man at the edge of the street.

"Mebbe we had," grunted the old man at the door. Then he and his companion moved out of the alley. They went but a little way when they came to a full stop, and entered into a low confab.

A pair of keen eyes was watching them during the time, however, and a little later the man who had addressed the two strangers walked away.

He pa.s.sed to the rear of the block, and made his way by a back stairs to a room on the first floor. Here he found the one he was seeking-- Mrs. Scarlet--who was engaged in discussing a supper of bread and beer.

She was alone.

"Eh? so you're here again, Nick? Did he send ye?"

"The Professor?"

"Who else should I mean?"

"Wall, he didn't, then. I seed a couple of blokes in the alley jist now, and they 'quired for you."

"Why didn't you send 'em up?" and the woman laughed in a way that revealed her ragged teeth and unwholesome gums.

"They'll be back soon 'nough," answered the man. "I've an idee they mean mischief. Better you go below and see 'em when they do come."

"All right."

About an hour after darkness had settled, while Madge Scarlet sat in the lower room, the one in which we have so many times met her, the door was unceremoniously opened, and a man crossed the threshold.

An old man he was, with bent form and white hair, a hump disfiguring his shoulder, his trembling right hand resting on the top of a cane.

"Good evening, mistress."

The old man, who had closed the door sharply to behind him, sank to a rickety chair as he uttered the greeting.

"I don't know you," retorted Madge Scarlet sharply. "Haven't you got into the wrong house?"

"Well, I dunno," whined the man in a sharp falsetto voice. "I reckon if you're Mistress Scarlet, you're the one I'm to see."

"I'm not ashamed to own to the name, old man. Let's have your business at once."

"I'm pretty much broke up since I came out of the bastile," said the old man. "'Taint jest the place for a gentleman, I can tell you that.