Mr. Newton took advantage of the confusion which his attack had caused. He sprang to the door, and, with three blows from his weapon had shattered the lock. He threw the portal open, and dashed out into the hall. “Stop him!” yelled Noddy. “You’re too late!” called back the reporter. “You’ll be sorry for this!” Noddy’s voice sounded through the passageway, as Mr. Newton sped away. “We’ve only just begun our campaign against your friends. Our next move will not be so easy on you!” The noise of the blows on the door had brought a score or more of frightened Chinese from their rooms in the building, and they crowded into the halls and on the stairs as the reporter hurried out. This gave Mr. Newton one advantage, for the opening of the doors made the passages light. In their frightened, cackling voices the Chinese sounded not unlike a lot of scared hens and roosters. In their anxiety to see what was going on, and perhaps in a desire to escape from what they evidently considered a raid by the police, some of the Celestials got in Mr. Newton’s way. He pushed through the throng, knocking some of the Mongolians over, at which they yelled louder than before. Out into Pell Street sped the reporter, expecting to be pursued by some of the gang. But when he had reached the middle of the thoroughfare, which, even at the midnight hour, was well filled with people, he saw that no one was after him. His sudden exit from the house, and the noise he left behind him, seemed to attract no attention, as the people of that neighborhood were used to all sorts of queer affairs, and it was considered impolite, in Pell Street, to inquire too closely into your neighbor’s business. “Well, that was a lucky and rather narrow escape,” mused Mr. Newton, as he made his way toward the Bowery. “I guess I made a mistake in going up against that gang alone. I’ll know better next time. I’ve failed on this occasion, and we are as far off as ever from getting the deed, but I have another plan.” Thinking Larry might be anxious to know the result of his attempt, Mr. Newton went to his friend’s house. Beyond telling him he had failed, the older reporter did not acquaint Larry with the details of the attack and the escape. “What do you suppose became of Peter?” asked Larry. “Oh, I guess he was somewhere in the house,” replied Mr. Newton. “It was like the other houses in Chinatown, a regular rabbit warren, with half a dozen entrances. He could go in one way, and out another. But I’ll land ’em yet.” “What do you plan to do next?” “To tell you the truth, I haven’t made up my mind,” Mr. Newton replied. “I’m sort of up against a stone wall. I want to sleep over it. Then, perhaps, I shall hit on something.” It was now nearly one o’clock in the morning. Larry and Mr. Newton had been standing out in front of the Dexter apartments, for Larry did not want his mother to know about the quest, fearing she would worry over it. So, when Mr. Newton called on him, the two had gone outside.