"You know Miss Leigh, too?" "What Miss Leigh?" My heart warmed at the name and I forgot all about Marvel. How did he know that I knew her? "'The Angel of the Lost Children.'" "'The Angel--'? Miss Eleanor Leigh?" Then as he nodded--"Slightly." My heart was now quite warm. "Who called her so?" "She said she knew you. I look after some of her friends for her." "Who called her the 'Angel of the Lost Children'?" "A friend of mine--Leo Wolffert, who works in the slums--a writer. She's always finding and helping some one who is lost, body or soul." "Leo Wolffert! Do you know him?" "I guess we all know him, don't we, Doc?" put in the other man. "And so do some of the big ones." "Rather." "And the lady, too--she's a good one, too," he added. I was so much interested in this part of the conversation that I forgot at the moment to ask the doctor where he had known John Marvel and Wolffert. I, however, asked him what I owed him, and he replied, "Not a cent. Any of Langton's friends here or John Marvel's friends, or (after a pause) Miss Leigh's friends may command me. I am only too glad to be able to serve them. It's the only way I can help." "That's what I told him," said my friend, whose name I heard for the first time. "I told him you weren't one of these Jew doctors that appraise a man as soon as he puts his nose in the door and skin him clean." "I am a Jew, but I hope I am not one of that kind." "No; but there are plenty of 'em." I came away feeling that I had made two friends well worth making. They were real men. When I parted from my friend he took out of his pocket-book a card. "For my friends," he said, as he handed it to me. When I got to the light I read: "Wm. Langton, Private Detective." It was not until long afterward that I knew that the man he was following when he sprang on the car and I saved him was myself, and that I owed the attention to my kinsman and to Mr. Leigh, to whom Peck had given a rather sad account of me. My kinsman had asked him to ascertain how I lived. I called on my new friend, Langton, earlier than he had expected. In my distress about Dix I consulted him the very next day and he undertook to get him back. I told him I had not a cent to pay him with at present, but some day I should have it and then---- "You'll never owe me a cent as long as you live," he said. "Besides, I'd like to find that dog. I remember him. He's a good one. You say you used the back stairway at times, opening on the alley near Mick Raffity's?" "Yes." He looked away out of the window with a placid expression. "I wouldn't go down that way too often at night," he said presently. "Why?" "Oh! I don't know. You might stumble and break your neck. One or two men have done it." "Oh! I'll be careful," I laughed. "I'm pretty sure-footed." "You need to be--there. You say your dog's a good fighter?"