r eagerly. "I
want to find him."

"I haven't the least idea."

"I wonder if the janitor would know," Larry went on.

"He might. Perhaps the man left his address with him, in order that
letters might be forwarded. I'll go downstairs with you and
introduce you to the janitor."

That functionary was unable to throw any light on where Retto had
gone. Evidently, for the time being, the chase had come to an end.

Larry made his way to the nearest elevated station and rode in the
direction of the Potter home. He had no definite plan in mind, and,
more from a whim than anything else, he decided to walk past the
house. He did not expect it, but he had an idea--a very faint
one--that he might see Grace. Of course, if he saw her at the
window, where she sometimes sat, it would be no more than polite to
go in and tell her what the carrier had said about the second
letter.

When Larry got in front of the Potter house he was disappointed to
see that it was in darkness. It was about ten o'clock, and he knew
the family was in the habit of retiring early, especially since Mr.
Potter's disappearance.

As he strolled past on the other side of the street, looking in vain
for a glimmer of light, or the sight of a girlish face against the
window pane, he passed into the deep shadow cast by a big tree on
which shone an electric arc light in front of the Potter house. The
blackness was quite deep, in contrast to the illumination on both
sides of the tree, for electric lamps have the property of casting
dense shadows. If Larry had been looking straight in front of him
perhaps it would not have happened, but he was staring at where
Grace lived, and the first thing he knew he had walked full tilt
into a man who was hiding in the darkness behind the big tree.

"Oh--ugh!" grunted Larry, for the breath was knocked from his body
by the sudden impact.

"What's the matter? What are you doing?" inquired the man angrily.
"Why don't you look where you're going?"

The collision had swung him out of the shadow into the light, where
he stood blinking. Larry recovered his breath, and then, at the
sight of the man, gave a low-voiced cry of astonishment.

"Mr. Sullivan!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, it's you, is it, Dexter!" remarked the politician. "Are you
following me? Are you spying on me? If you are I'll have you
arrested!"

"I'm not following you or spying on you!" retorted Larry. "But you
seem to be hiding here. What do you want? What are you i