"Two men have escaped from this house, after throwing me into that cellar," he says rapidly. "They must be overtaken--a sailor and a pretended simpleton tricked out in rags and tinsel. After them, boys; out by that door. They can't be far away. Capture them _alive or dead_!" The door by which Alan and his rescuer made their exit stands invitingly open, and the three officers, promptly obeying their leader, set off in pursuit of the sailor and the simpleton. Left alone, Van Vernet plucks the extempore adornments from his head and person, and meditates ruefully, almost forgetting the original Raid in the chagrin of his present failure. He goes to the side of the murdered man, who still lies as he had fallen, and looks down upon him. "Ah, my fine fellow," he mutters, "you give me a chance to redeem myself. If I have been outwitted to-night by a sailor and a fool, you and I will have fine revenge. A sailor! Ah, it was no common sailor, if I may trust my eyes and my senses. The hands were too white and soft; the feet too small and daintily clad; the face, in spite of the low-drawn cap and the tattooing, was too aristocratic and too _clean_. And the fool! Ah, it is no common fool who carries keys that unlock our new patent handcuffs, and who managed this rescue so cleverly. For once, Van Vernet has found his match! But the scales shall turn. The man who killed _you_, my lad, and the man who outwitted _me_, shall be found and punished, or Van Vernet will have lost his skill!" CHAPTER XVIII. VERNET DISCOMFITED. While the discomfited Vernet kept watch alone with the dead, his men were running up and down the alleys, listening, peering, searching in by-places, in the hope of finding the hiding-place, or to overtake the flight, of the fugitive sailor and his idiot guide. More than an hour they consumed in this search, and then they returned to their superior officer to report their utter failure. "It is what I expected," said Vernet, with severe philosophy. "Those fellows are no common rascals. They have spoiled our Raid; before this, every rogue in the vicinity has been warned. I would not give a copper for all we can capture now." And Vernet was right, the Raid was a failure. Mustering his men, he made the tour of the streets and alleys, but everywhere an unnatural silence reigned. The Thieves' Tavern was fast shut and quite silent; the drinking dens, the streets and cellars, where riot and infamy reigned, were under the influence of a silent spell.