“That sounds as if a job had been put up on Nick,” Chick said to himself. “If they get by with it, now that I’ve got this she-devil under my eyes, they will go some, all right.” It had become obvious to Chick that the girl had been a tool in the hands of this woman, and that he would learn nothing more by playing the eavesdropper then and there, Vera Vantoon confiding nothing to her companion, who evidently was entirely ignorant of the identity of the latter’s confederates. “They will separate after leaving here,” he said to himself. “The girl will probably go straight home. There would be nothing for me in remaining on her track. I’ll drop her and get after the woman.” Gliding noiselessly away from the position he had occupied. Chick returned to the manager’s office and resumed his discarded garments. He then sauntered out to the bar again, from which he continued to watch the booth, lest his own doings might have been observed by some spy in league with the woman, who then would be warned of her danger. A furtive scrutiny for a few minutes convinced Chick, however, that Vera Vantoon had come alone to keep the appointment, and he then returned to the street to await her departure. Five minutes later both women came out and proceeded together as far as the nearest corner, where they conversed briefly before separating. Minerva Grand drew down her veil and hurried away in the direction of a subway station. “Bound home,” thought Chick. “Now for the woman.” Vera Vantoon did not take a conveyance. Glancing sharply around, she drew her cloak about her and walked rapidly away, heading for Second Avenue and then toward one of the lowest sections of the East Side. Ten minutes brought her into a narrow street, in one of the worst and most congested precincts of the city, in so far as the buildings were concerned. They were old and of the lowest type, crowded in nondescript fashion into the foul territory they occupied, with a labyrinth of black alleys running hither and thither among them, and forming a maze through which crooks familiar with the surroundings could easily elude a pursuer, even though nearly as well acquainted with the miserable quarters. “By Jove, she’s heading for the lair of her confederates,” thought Chick, after stealthily following her into the narrow street. “It may not be dead easy to trail her.” This became doubly apparent in a very few moments. There were but few persons in the dismal street, which made it more difficult for Chick to closely follow her. Her dark figure, too, could be seen only at intervals, when she passed one of the blurs of light that relieved only feebly the prevailing gloom. Suddenly, nevertheless, Chick saw her turn aside--and then he lost sight of her. He waited with strained eyes for half a minute, but could not discover her. “By Jove, I mustn’t let her give me the slip,” he muttered. “Better arrest her than stand for that.”