But the young man yawned, looked at his watch, and departed from the lobby--not to the auditorium, but out to the vestibule. “He's going to leave the theatre,” said Miss Winnett, excitedly. “We must follow.” And she tripped hastily down the stairs, Haslam after her. II _A Triangular Chase_ Tom Appleton sauntered out through the great vestibule, turning his eyes casually from the marble floor up to the balconies that look down from aloft upon this outer lobby. He was whistling an air from “Apollo” which he had heard a few weeks before at the New York Casino. He hastened his steps when he saw a 'bus passing down Broad Street. A leap down the Grand Opera House steps and a lively run enabled him to catch the 'bus before it reached Columbia Avenue. He clambered up to the top and was soon being well shaken as he enjoyed the breeze and the changing view of the handsome residences on North Broad Street. Haslam's sharp eyes took note of Appleton's action. “He's on that 'bus,” said the doctor to Amy as she took his arm on the sidewalk. “Shall we take the next one?” “No; for then we can't see where he gets off. Can't we find a cab?” “There's none in sight. We can have one called here, but we'll have to wait for it at least ten minutes.” “That will never do. To think he could elude us so easily, without even knowing that we're after him!” Vexation was stamped upon the dainty face, with its soft brown eyes, as she raised her veil. “Ah! I have it,” said Haslam, who would have gone to great lengths to drive that vexation away. “A bicycle! This section teems with bicycle shops. We can hire a tandem. It's a good thing we're both expert bicyclists.” “And that I'm suitably dressed for this kind of a race,” replied Amy, as the two hurried down the block. She stood outside the bicycle store and kept her gaze upon the 'bus, which was growing less and less distinct to the eye as it rolled down the street, while Haslam hastily engaged a two-seated machine. The 'bus had not yet disappeared in the darkness when the pursuers, Amy upon the front seat, glided out from the sidewalk and down over the asphalt. The passage became rough below Columbia Avenue, where the asphalt gives away to Belgian block paving. Haslam's athletic training and the acquaintance of both with the bicycle served to minimize this disadvantage. The frequent stoppages of the 'bus made it less difficult for them to keep in close sight of it. Conversation was not easy between them. Both kept silence, therefore, their eyes fixed upon the 'bus ahead, and carefully watching its every stop. “You're sure he hasn't gotten off yet?” she asked, at Girard Avenue. “Certain.” “He's probably going to his rooms down-town.” “Or to his club.” So they pressed southward. Before them stretched the lone vista of electric lights away down Broad Street to the City Hall invisible in the night.