Chick rode on about thirty yards, then sprang from the moving car and stepped quickly toward the scrubby trees and shrubbery filling the apex of the angle formed by the two roads. Flanking the opposite side of that which the car was following, scattered dwellings could be seen in the distance, but the road to the right appeared to be unsettled. Somewhat to Chick’s surprise, after stealing in among the low trees to a point enabling him to see the latter road, he discovered his quarry seated on a rock at one side and gazing up the deserted way. “He has an appointment with some one,” Chick reasoned, noting the man’s expectant expression. “He is going to wait, and it’s up to me to do the same, also to crawl near enough to overhear what may be said. That ought to be easily accomplished, if I can avoid snapping a twig.” The suspect had unfolded his second newspaper and was beginning to read it. Chick dropped upon his hands and knees and crept within thirty feet of the man, then settled himself in a thicket that effectively concealed him, though through the twigs and foliage he could plainly see the waiting man. He could see, too, that he was much amused by what he was reading, and Chick was not slow in suspecting the nature of it. Twenty minutes passed, also several motor cars, at each of which the suspect gazed sharply when he heard it approaching. He sprang up at length, hearing and seeing another, and Chick felt a thrill of satisfaction, when an inferior, two-seated runabout containing a man and a woman came to a stop near his quarry. “All three cannot ride away in that trap,” he said to himself. “I can keep an eye on one of them, at least.” Even before a word came from one of them, moreover, confirming his immediate suspicions, Chick had sized up the couple in the car. The woman was somewhat showily clad, about thirty years old, and quite attractive, barring her rouged cheeks and indications of dissipation in her sharp gray eyes. Her companion was a bearded man in an ill-fitting black suit with a frock coat, and with a gray slouch hat on his head. The instant Chick saw him and his garments, he was sure of the man’s identity, despite his facial disguise. “Margate himself!” flashed up in his mind. “Andy Margate, as sure as I’m a foot high.” This was confirmed almost immediately by the intercourse that began as soon as the woman, who was driving the runabout, brought it to a stop at one side of the road. “Ah!” she exclaimed. “You’re here ahead of us, Tony.” “Sure I’m here,” said the man in baggy brown. “I’ve been waiting twenty minutes.” “Well, what have you learned, Selig?” Margate demanded, with manifest interest. “You keep quiet, Nance, and let me do the talking.” “Tony Selig,” thought Chick; then, he rightly inferred: “By their resemblance, too, this woman should be his sister. Nance Selig, eh?” The man in the road drew nearer the car, replying, with a laugh: