---"

But Hutchinson stopped him.

"Wait," said he. "Don't be in a rush. This ain't the kind of a thing to
hurry through. You've got to take your time; you've got to think it
out." The broken-nosed man seemed impressed by both the manner and the
words of the other; and, noting this, Hutchinson went on: "Sleep on it.
That's a good way. And I'll do the same. Then I'll run in to your place
to-morrow afternoon, and we can put your ideas into good shape."

Fenton seemed to consider this quite a sober, steadying notion, and
after a few moments more of conversation the man with the ornamental
hair went back to the superintending of his pool tables, and the other
took his departure.

Bat followed him. The big athlete was not at all sure but that Big Slim
would be lurking somewhere outside in order to see if he made any move
to carry out his promise against Fenton; and to be seen close upon the
trail of the broken-nosed man would be excellent testimony of his good
faith.

"And then," he told himself as he went along, Fenton in plain sight, "I
want to locate this party, anyway. It will be useful in the show-down."

Fenton stepped out of the little back-water in which Gaffney's place
lay, and into the full flood of the glittering, high-smelling avenue.
Here there was a danger of losing him in the press and Bat increased his
speed, working his way nearer to his quarry. In a few blocks there was
another turn, this time into an unfrequented street which had a familiar
look. Bat fell back here, and took to the opposite side, holding close
to the buildings and walking upon the balls of his feet so as to avoid
the usual ringing heel strokes. At the mouth of an alley, Fenton
slackened his speed and then disappeared. Bat, from the other side of
the street, inspected the place, with mouth twisted awry.

"I've got it," said he. "That's the alley I slipped into the night I
tagged after Bohlmier and his pal. And in the said alley is located the
house they went into. I wonder," and here he stroked his jaw, "if this
fellow with the broken nose has anything to do with the room they broke
into through the wall?"

The more he considered this point, the more likely it seemed to be true;
and if it were, then Ashton-Kirk had known of Fenton long since.

"Yes, he was onto him," mused Scanlon, his thoughts turning to that
night's meeting with the disguised investigator in the same building.
"Kirk's had him spotted."

He lingered for some ti