Even then he did not leave the trail, but followed until the big car drew up in front of the huge apartment house in which Alfred Atherton maintained his luxurious bachelor quarters. As the leader of the kid-gloved crooks alighted from the car, Max Berne rattled past on his motor cycle. He could not resist the temptation. “Good night, Mr. Atherton,” he called out. The society man wheeled about with thumping heart, but was too late to see more than the cyclist’s back. “That will give him something to think about!” murmured the waiter. “I hope he hasn’t got a weak heart!” “Great heavens!” ejaculated the startled Atherton. “Who was that, and how long has he been following us?” But none of the others could say, and although they tried to shake off the uneasy feeling it gave them, they were not altogether successful. CHAPTER VIII. A DARING VENTURE. About quarter of two the following afternoon, Alfred Knox Atherton descended in the elevator of the big apartment house, and was about to enter his handsome electric coupé when Max Berne stepped up to him and respectfully raised his hat. “Hello, Max!” Atherton exclaimed good-naturedly. “What are you doing here? Brought me a message from the club?” “No, sir,” replied the waiter. “I’ve left the Marmawell. I gave up my position this morning, and paid them a month’s wages in lieu of notice.” “I’m very sorry to hear that,” declared Atherton. “We shall miss you greatly. You’ve got another and better job, I suppose?” “Not yet, sir, but with your assistance I hope to get a very much better job. That’s why I’ve come to you now.” “I see. Well, I will be very glad to do what I can to help you, but I’m sorry to say that I cannot talk with you now. I’m just off to lunch with Professor Tufts. Call again this evening between seven and eight, and we’ll talk the matter over.” “Thank you, sir, but I can’t wait until this evening. I must see you now.” Atherton raised his brows. “Must!” he repeated. “Really, Max, you’re forgetting yourself. That’s hardly the way to speak to me, if you desire my help. However, I don’t suppose you meant to be impertinent.” “Not at all,” was the reply. “All the same, sir, I repeat that I must see you now.” “And I repeat that I can’t and won’t see you!” Atherton replied, growing angry. “I think you will, sir,” Berne assured him suavely. “And why, pray?” demanded the society man. The waiter came a step or two nearer, so that the chauffeur could not hear. “I was at Meadowview at three o’clock this morning,” he murmured. Alfred Atherton went suddenly white, but he recovered himself almost instantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, “but as you seem to think you do, I suppose I can give you five minutes. Come along.” Without another word he led the way into the building, and entered the waiting elevator. They were shot up a few floors, and Max Berne was ushered into a luxuriously furnished room overlooking the wide avenue.