go into it for, then?"

"What do we do anything for? I thought, from what you said, that he was
a coarse young countryman. But he don't seem like it. In fact I believe
he is too nice a fellow to be ruined for life."

"Perhaps you'd better get him out then," said Mortimer, sarcastically.

"You talk like a fool," replied Smartweed, testily.

"So do you," retorted his companion, firing up; and he nursed his aching
jaw as if to lend emphasis to his remarks. These explosions suddenly
ended the discussion, and as soon as their shoes were polished, the two
young villains left the saloon. Mortimer turned up the Bowery, and
Smartweed passed into a side street leading towards Broadway.

Bob readily dropped his assumed character of bootblack, and quickly
started in pursuit of Felix Mortimer.

The latter went directly home, where he remained for nearly an hour. At
the end of this time, he emerged from the house, much to the young
detective's relief. He had waited outside all this time, patiently
watching for Felix's reappearance.

Though cold and hungry, Bob could not afford to give up the chase long
enough even to get a bit of lunch. He had made wonderful progress so far
in his detective work, and he felt, as he had a right to feel, highly
elated over his discoveries.

Now he was shadowing young Mortimer again. Down the Bowery they went
till they came to a side street in a disreputable locality. Here they
turned towards the East River, and presently Felix Mortimer left the
sidewalk and disappeared within the door of an old building.

"So this is Gunwagner's, is it?" said Bob to himself. "At least I s'pose
'tis, from what them fellers said--Gunwagner--yes, that's the name.
Well, this may not be it, but I'm pretty sure it is," he continued,
reasoning over the problem.

After fixing the house and its locality securely in his mind, and after
having waited till he satisfied himself that Mortimer intended remaining
there for a time, he made a lively trip to City Hall Park, where he
joined young Flannery.

"Well, Bob, have you struck anything?" said Tom, instantly, and with
much more than a passing interest.

"Yes; I've struck it rich--reg'lar detective style, I tell you, Tom,"
said Bob, with pride and enthusiasm. And then he briefly related all his
discoveries.

"Nobody could er worked the business like you, Bob," said Tom,
admiringly.

"Well, I did throw a little style into it, I think myself," replied
Bob. "But," he