He assured the old detective that such a thing as a Chinaman was unknown in the neighborhood. They got inside the ruined factory and watched the pier until midnight, but not a soul came near the place. Harry was triumphant. "It's all a fake," he declared, "and you are out your two hundred. We may as well ring off and go home." He had scarcely spoken when an old man with a fishing basket, a pole and a lantern came hobbling onto the pier. "At last!" muttered Old King Brady. "Here is a party who, if he belongs in the neighborhood, may know something." He stepped out into view. "Good-evening, uncle!" he called. "Evening yourself," growled the old man. "If you mean to hold me up you won't get nothin', I tell yer that straight. I hain't even begun to fish." "I'm no hold-up man. On the contrary, I'm a detective." "What say? I'm a bit deef. I can't hear." "What building is this?" "That? Why, that is Niebuhr's old moulding mill. It burned down five years ago." "It isn't Fisher's fertilizer factory, then?" "No, no! You're all off. That's a mile and over up the shore." "But wasn't this lane behind us once known as Lorimer's lane?" "So it was." "I thought Fisher's fertilizer factory stood at the foot of Lorimer's lane?" "So it did." "Explain yourself." "Well, the explanation is easy enough, boss; there's two Lorimer's lanes." This settled it. Bestowing a dollar on the lone fisherman in exchange for his information, Old King Brady started in to rectify his blunder. They made the best time they could up the shore, but it was with little hope of accomplishing anything it had now grown so late. Indeed, it was nearly one o'clock before they came in sight of another pier with the foundation of a burned building at the end. "This is it," declared Old King Brady. "I see my blunder now." "Hist!" whispered Harry. "There's a man on the pier." So there was, and he was looking over the side, calling down to someone in the water. The Bradys and Alice, who were still a good distance away, hurried on. Suddenly the man straightened up and gave a wild start. They saw him reach to his hip pocket for a revolver. Before he was able to draw it a shot rang out. "Heavens! That fellow has picked up one!" Harry cried. The man flung up his hands, staggered back and fell upon the pier. "Just in time to be witnesses to a murder!" cried Alice. "Can he be a Chinaman?" "I couldn't make out," replied Old King Brady. "He must have been shot from a boat, whoever he is." Their curiosity was now fully aroused, and they lost no time getting on the pier. No one else seemed to have been attracted by the shot. In fact, there was only one house to be seen, a small cottage up a lane behind the pier, in the window of which a light burned. And now the detectives made a discovery which brought them to the conclusion that after all they had made no mistake in starting out to follow up their Chinese clew. For the man on the pier was a Chinese in American dress.