"Perhaps for the others in the car; not for the lady," answered Robert, yet he could not help smiling. "Live down this way?" asked the sharper carelessly. "No, I am a stranger in this part of Chicago. I am looking for Grandon street." "Grandon Street. I can take you there easily enough. I own property on that street." "Do you? Then perhaps you can take me to number 238--that is, if you are going there now." "Yes, I was bound there--to see one of my tenants who talks of moving. Number 238 is less than a block from my houses. I think the Nelsons live at 238,--or is it the Romers." "I am looking for a man named Herman Wenrich--an old lumberman from Michigan." "Oh, yes, to be sure. I know him fairly well. Doesn't he live in the house with the Nelsons,--or maybe it's next door?" "I don't know who he lives with, or if he lives alone. He is a stranger to me. I want to see him on a little business." "And you have never been in this part of Chicago before?" "No." Jim Huskin turned his head to conceal a smile. "I reckon I can lead him where I please now," he thought. Then he looked back, to see Andy Cross following them at a distance of less than a block. Several squares were covered, and Huskin took Robert around a corner into a street which was little better than an alleyway. "This is a short cut," he said. "The street is all torn up a bit further on, and unless we go this way we will have to walk several blocks out of our way." "Any way will suit me," answered Robert. "Only I may have some difficulty in finding my way back." "Not if you take the street two blocks to our left." As they entered the alleyway Jim Huskin began to whistle a lively air. It was the signal for Andy Cross to draw closer. "I always whistle when I get here," explained the sharper, glibly, as he stopped for a second. "I was born and brought up in this neighborhood, and the scene takes me back to my boyhood days." Robert was not favorably impressed by the surroundings. On one side of the alleyway were a number of deserted tenement houses, and on the other the high brick wall surrounding a factory yard. "He must have been pretty poor to have lived in one of those shanties," thought the boy. "In those days these houses were well kept, and where the factory stands was a pretty open lot," said Huskin, as if reading his thoughts. "Everything is changed now. Will you mind my stopping at one of the houses for a minute? An old negro lives here, and I want to see if he is sick." "All right." Jim Huskin entered one of the tenements, to find it as he expected, deserted. "Say, just look here a minute!" he cried, coming to the front door. "What do you think is the matter with this poor fellow?" Wondering what was up, Robert advanced and entered the hallway of the tenement. The light was poor, and for several seconds he could see but little. "I don't see anybody--" he began, when, without warning, Jim Huskin leaped upon him and caught him by the arm and collar.