Burt could not prove that the English crook had had anything to do with the disappearance of Henry Stolburst, without the evidence of the latter. He could have arrested the fellow for attempting to assault him, but Barry would get off with a fine. Burt deemed it best to allow the man to go free. He determined, however, to keep a watchful eye on him. “I assure you,” said Barry, “that I have had no hand nor part in any of Ajeeb’s schemes.” “You visit him frequently?” “I’ve been in his house but twice,” replied Billy. “Would you prevent him from killing this man Henry Stolburst if opportunity offered?” “I would. Never have I shed human blood or countenanced the act.” “I guess if you were in a tight corner you would not hesitate to shoot?” “Perhaps; I have not a very good command over my temper.” “I’ve decided not to arrest you,” remarked Burt, “as I had at first proposed.” Barry smiled. “Will you have a glass of wine with me?” he asked. “No; good day.” “I’ll have Hare shadow him,” thought Burt, “and in that way we will locate this infernal Abyssinian.” Burt made his way to his office, and found Frank there. “Did you get your man?” asked Burt. “I had him.” “And let him slip through your fingers, eh?” “That’s just the size of it,” replied Hare, with a laugh. Burt looked disgusted. “You seem to regard Blair’s escape in a humorous light,” he said. “There can be no harm in a man laughing at himself.” “How did it happen?” The first part of the young detective’s narrative is already known to the reader. Frank, of course, did not find the Eye of Jobu in the water-pitcher. When Bull went crashing through the window, which was on the third floor, Hare ran down-stairs and into the street. He expected to find his man dead, or at least badly wounded. He did not find him at all. Blair had lighted on a canvas awning, and, by a sudden wrench, snapped the chain connecting the handcuffs. Then he slipped down one of the poles that supported the awning to the street. Beyond a severe shaking up the desperado was unhurt. “So,” said Burt, when his companion finished, “you saw Mike Quick?” “Yes--at Shaw’s,” replied Frank; “and I was sorry you were not with me.” “Were you speaking to him?” “No; but he and my friend Bull had a long chin.” “I wonder does Quick suspect his crime is known?” “I don’t think so. Since seeing Quick I told Blair I knew all about the killing of Murphy,” replied Frank. “I shouldn’t have done that.” “There was no harm in it.” “Suppose Bull runs across Mike Quick?” said Burt. “Well?” “Why, can’t you see that Blair will tell Quick we are after him?” “I have an idea that Bull will not care for another interview with Quick.” “You should not have told him, all the same.” “Why, Burt, I had him dead as a prisoner,” said Hare. “But he got away.” “Yes; but I never thought he had a chance of doing so.” There came a sharp rap on the door. “Come in.” Enoch Cook entered, and he puffed for breath.