he was afraid some one was after him."

"Thursday night," thought Larry. "That was the night the man got
away from the deserted tenement."

"My wife and I were sitting here," continued Mr. Jackson, "when all
at once a knock sounded on the door. I opened it, and there was this
man. He asked if I had any rooms to rent. I hadn't, but I told him I
had a spare bed, for I saw he was respectable. He seemed glad to get
it, and paid me well, though I didn't want to take the money. But he
seemed to have plenty."

"What was queer about him?" asked Larry, beginning to take an
unusual interest in what his friend was saying.

"Well, the excitement he seemed to be in, for one thing. And
another, he had just been shaved. I could see the talcum powder on
his cheeks. I thought it strange that a man who had time to shave or
get shaved should be in such a hurry. But it wasn't any of my
affair, so I said nothing."

"What became of him?" Larry was quite eager now. He seemed to be on
the verge of discovering something; if not of the Potter mystery
then of the other, that cropped up every now and again--that of the
man he had helped save from the wreck.

"He went away the next morning," Mr. Jackson resumed. "I didn't see
him again until the next night. Then he told me he had a room in
this tenement."

"Where?" inquired the young reporter.

"On the floor below--a front room, at the end of the corridor. But
are you going to call on him?" and Mr. Jackson looked somewhat
surprised at Larry's eagerness.

"Maybe I could get a story out of him," replied the reporter
non-commitally. "Have to be always on the lookout, you know."

"Well, I guess you'll not get much out of this man," said Mr.
Jackson. "He hardly speaks to me, though he doesn't seem cross or
ugly. Only there's some mystery about him. I'm sure of that."

"If he's Mah Retto I'm positive there is," thought Larry. "And it
looks as if it might be that fellow."

Not wishing to seem too keen on the scent of the queer man, the
newspaper youth changed the subject. In a little while he said he
had better be going home, as he had not told his mother he would be
out late. He promised to ask Mrs. Dexter to call on Mrs. Jackson,
and, with many good wishes from his friends, he left.

"Now for a try at the room on the next floor," said Larry in a
whisper, as he found himself in the corridor. "It's only a slim
chance, but a reporter has to take all that come his way."

He found the room