Patsy had accepted the added task with his usual promptness, and had been leading a sort of double life for several days. During the hours of daylight he went about his regular duties as usual. As it happened, Nick did not give him much night work; consequently he was able to shadow Follansbee’s house night after night. He had enjoyed little sleep, but he did not seem to mind that. He, too, was convinced that Follansbee was an unusually dangerous man, and should be carefully “covered,” and he was more than willing to do the job. Now his feelings were decidedly mixed. He had ventured to mingle with the group about the prostrate man, and had discovered his identity. It was unquestionably James Stone, the man he had seen entering Follansbee’s house a short time before, and had subsequently left it. Patsy had seen Follansbee watching Stone as the latter started down the street, and he knew that the doctor had deliberately waited a few minutes, and then followed. This meant that the scoundrelly head of St. Swithin’s had looked for Stone to succumb on the street, and had planned to have it appear as if by accident. “This is a queer go,” thought Patsy as he hurried away from the neighborhood of the curious policeman. “Follansbee must have double crossed Stone just as Patsy feared he might, and it was pretty foxy of him to have arranged that the man should take a tumble on the street several blocks from his house. “I’ve stumbled over a discovery sure enough, and now it’s up to me to report to Chick and let him tell the chief, as I suppose he will. It might have been well for me to trail that taxi in order to make sure of its destination, but I don’t believe there can be any doubt about that. Follansbee suggested St. Swithin’s, and the policeman who went along would want to know the why and wherefore of any change in plan. It seems safe enough to assume, therefore, that the Buzzard is taking his latest victim to St. Swithin’s, and that’s enough for the present. I’d like to know what the mischief he’s up to, and what he expects to do with him at the hospital, but that will have to keep. Thank Fortune I was on hand to-night. I’ll bet the chief didn’t dream that this little affair was going to be pulled off; if not, he certainly ought to thank Chick and me for giving him the tip.” CHAPTER XXX. AN UNLUCKY MORNING. Patsy Garvan had reason to congratulate himself on the outcome of his night’s vigil, but it is to be feared that he did not follow it up in the best way. It was nearly half past four in the morning when he reached Nick’s headquarters, and he unwisely decided that there was no use of rousing Chick at that hour. Breakfast was only about three hours off, and he reasoned that the delay could make little difference.