“I don’t believe any of the gang of safe-blowers has left New York,” said Mr. Newton. “I have talked with the detectives about the matter, and they are sure that the criminals are hiding here. The trouble is, New York is such a big place it makes an excellent place to hide. The detectives have been over every clew, but they have succeeded very poorly so far. There’s not a trace of the men or the missing valuables.” “Wouldn’t it be a joke if we got ’em!” said Larry. “Almost too good a joke to be true,” was Mr. Newton’s reply. The two reporters laid their plans, and put them into operation the next day. All the time they could spare from their office work they used in tramping about the worst parts of New York. Mr. Newton “knew the ropes” from having been on frequent assignments to localities where happenings grave and gay had occurred. Together they went through the Bowery, into Chinatown, with its Joss houses, heavy with the smell of incense sticks, into Chinese dwellings where the reek of opium lingered, and into dives of all sorts. All the while they sought but one man, a man who had blue hands, or blue marks on his fingers and thumbs. They were not interested in faces or clothes. All they looked at was hands. For two weeks they kept up this tiresome work. They had any number of strange experiences. Once they came near to being caught in a raid the police made on a certain place, where, it was said, Chinese gambling was carried on. Again they were in places where fierce fights started, and where the first thing that happened was that the lights went out. But each time they came through all right. All this while, however, their quest seemed to be fruitless. They could not find the man they sought. They made guarded inquiries, for they did not want it known what their object was, in frequenting the slums. But they did not meet with any success. Once, indeed, they thought they were on the right track. A woman, of whom they inquired if she had ever seen a man with blue marks on his hands, replied: “Yes, sure. He lif by me!” “He lives with you!” exclaimed Larry, thinking, perhaps, he had stumbled upon the wife of the man they sought. “I means in de same houses,” explained the woman, who was German. “His hands is as blue like de skies. He iss de man vat you vant. His hands is blue as vat nefer vas. He vorks in a place where dey makes bluing for clothes. Ah! sure his hands iss blue, but he iss a goot man!” “I’m afraid he’s not the man we are after,” said Mr. Newton. “The hands of the man we want are not blue all over, only part blue; a little blue.” “Ah, den, I knows,” said the woman, with a smile. “What do you mean?” “It iss his liddles boy vat you vants. His hands is littler as his fader’s, and dey iss not blue all over; only part blue. Ah, yes, I knows!” Thanking the woman for her information, which, however, was of no value, Mr. Newton and Larry gave up their quest in that direction.