Ferris to himself.
"I suppose that policeman would let the whole ward pounce on me without
doing anything toward helping me. I wonder where that Hal Carson is?"

The tall youth brushed off his clothing hastily, and returned to the
entrance to the alley. He looked around carefully, but Hal kept well
hidden.

Dick Ferris was undecided what to do. Should he deliver the letter
intrusted to him by Hardwick? He hesitated and then continued up the
alley-way, upon which a number of dirty, dingy tenement houses were
situated.

Arriving at the very last of these, he ascended the front stoop and
knocked loudly upon the door. There was no reply, and while he was
waiting for some one to answer his summons, Hal managed to skulk up
behind the other buildings and approach within hearing distance.

At last Ferris got tired of waiting, and he tried the door. It was
unlocked, and, pushing it open, the tall boy entered.

Hal waited for a moment, and then, mounting the stoop, peered in at the
door, which Ferris had left partly open.

As the youth had surmised, the hall-way was quite dark. He heard Ferris
mounting the rickety stairs, and like a shadow he followed, fairly
holding his breath, lest some sound might betray his presence.

Ferris mounted almost to the top of the tenement, and then hammered on a
door in the rear.

"Come!" cried a voice from inside, and Ferris entered.

No sooner was the door closed than Hal approached it and applied his eye
to the key-hole. He saw a small apartment, scantily furnished with a
small cook-stove, a table, three chairs, and some kitchen utensils.

A man sat before the stove, smoking a short briar pipe. He was unshaved,
but his face bore evidence of former gentility and manhood, in spite of
the fact that it was now dissipated.

"Hullo, Ferris!" he exclaimed.

"How are you, Macklin?" returned the tall boy.

"Not very well, I can tell you," returned Macklin, removing his pipe and
spitting into the stove. "I've got rheumatism, yer know."

"Rheumatism!" laughed Ferris. "More likely it's rumatism, Tommy."

"Don't give me any o' yer jokes, Ferris. Wot brings yer?"

"I've got a letter for you."

"From Hardwick?"

Ferris nodded.

"I thought I would hear from him before long. Hand it over."

Ferris did so. Macklin tore open the epistle and began to peruse it
hastily. As he did so Ferris tried to glance over his shoulder.

"Here! none o' dat!" cried Macklin, savagely. "Wot's my business i