“Gee whiz! she is breaking cover, all right,” thought Patsy, at once elated. “She’s off on a definite mission, too, and that looks more like business. There’s no mistaking her, for all she’s so bundled up and closely veiled. That points to something doing, for fair. It’s ten to one, now, that Chick sized her up correctly.” Stealing out, Patsy followed the girl with no great difficulty. He knew that his disguise would preclude recognition, even if she had seen him the previous night, as Nick had apprehended. It soon became obvious to Patsy, however, that she did not feel that she had incurred suspicion, or had any thought of being followed. Patsy shadowed her over to New York, where she took the Third Avenue elevated. Leaving it a little later, she finally brought up at an inferior wooden house in a low street on the East Side. She darted up the inclosed steps and rang the bell three times, and she was admitted so quickly that Patsy was unable to see who answered the summons. “She’s under cover again, all right, but this looks still more like business,” he said to himself. “But how am I to get next? That’s the question.” Patsy had paused on the opposite side of the street and was sizing up the house and its surroundings. The ground floor was used for a small store. Over the door was a sign bearing the single word--Hogan. “It looks like a measly little grocery store,” muttered Patsy. “But why is it closed so early? Other shops around here are open. Hogan must have other business on for to-night, something doing in which that girl figures. Gee, I must contrive in some way to turn the trick.” The front room of the dwelling over the store was in darkness, but Patsy could see that the roller shades were drawn down, with no sign of any person near them in the act of peering out. He could also see on the rear wall of an adjoining building the faint reflection of light from the side window of a rear room of the house. “That’s where the girl has gone,” he rightly reasoned. “But who is with her and how am I to get up there? Those windows are a good ten feet from the ground. I’ll have a look at the back of the crib. There may be a porch.” Moving more cautiously, Patsy found a narrow passageway between the house and the building mentioned, through which he stealthily picked his way into a small back yard, so small it was hardly worthy the name. For the rear wall of a large garage fronting on the next street was within six feet of the back of the house. The yard was as dark as a pocket, moreover, but Patsy could feel the outlines of a bulkhead door, evidently opening into a cellar under the store. There was no sign of a porch, or means of getting up to the second-floor windows. Patsy could see, nevertheless, that the curtain of one of them was up about an inch above the lower sash. While looking up he also saw that the garage was quite a new one and that it was built of cement blocks, a building of only one story, and having a flat roof.