ero picking up his coat flung it at
him and commanded:

"Get away, you dirty dog, and mind what you are at next time you attempt
to insult a man who did no harm to you."

The whole tone and manner of the supposed dude had changed, and as the
three men joined each other at some distance one of them said:

"What was it we struck?"

"I reckon we struck against a stone wall or a flying brick, from the way
my face is swelling."

The men had gotten their surprise, and our hero, as a matter of
prudence, being alone in the grove, changed his disguise, dropped the
chappie role altogether, and walked off in an opposite direction. He had
visited the neighborhood for a special purpose, and his run-in with the
three rowdies had only been a side diversion.

Oscar walked over to a row of dilapidated-looking houses, where he had
presented a view of the miserable condition in which human beings can
live and thrive. On the way over he passed the three men whom he had
served out, and so complete was his disguise they failed to recognize
him. He walked past the cottages several times and only attracted a
passing glance; or it is more probable that those who saw him did not
recognize that he had passed and repassed. Oscar was going by for the
third time when he saw a face--a dark face with glittering black
eyes--appear at one of the upper windows just for an instant. Our hero,
however, was one of those who can take in a great deal at a glance and
he muttered:

"Aha! a fish has seen the bait, now there will come a nibble."

The detective after a little passed down by the row of houses for the
fourth time, and he kept his eyes seemingly in one direction, when in
fact his glance was directed toward the window where for one instant he
had seen the dark face. The face did not appear again, and he muttered:

"That was a nibble, sure. Now we will see."

He repassed the houses for the fifth time, going very slowly, but
seemingly attracted no attention. He was aware, however, that he was
being very closely observed, not from the window where he had seen the
face, but by a female and a rather pretty-looking young Italian woman,
and as our hero passed she smiled upon him very sweetly--and she could
smile sweetly--and her glittering black eyes were illuminated with a
brilliance that was charming.

Our hero stopped short, stepped toward the stoop on which the girl was
sitting, and asked:

"Do you speak English?"

"Yes," came the answer,