But Francois was so utterly fagged after his long walk from the Elevated road, carrying his heavy suitcase, that he worried about nothing save his own discomfort. Unable to find a taxi, he had been compelled to tramp the entire distance, and the fatigue of it had made him peevish. He could have saved himself at least a mile if he had taken a more direct road, but Keralio's orders were explicit. He must always follow a circuitous route so as to throw possible pursuers off the scent. There was no disobeying the orders of the chief, so on he trudged, looking neither to right nor left, up one street, down another, now crossing an empty lot, now darting through a narrow alley, through the wastes and dreariness of Bronxville. As he approached his journey's end, he accelerated his pace, going along so fast that it was as much as Dick and Steell could do to keep up with him. The night was dark and foggy, and at times they could not see him for the mist. But as he came within the glare of each lamp post, they could make out his lithe figure, scurrying along as if the devil himself were at his heels. "Let's get up closer," gasped Dick, who was winded from the long chase. "I guess their den is in this neighborhood. He'll slip in somewhere and we'll lose him if we keep so far away." "No--he may see us," whispered Steell cautiously. "We can make him out all right." They increased their pace a little. The valet was less than two blocks away, and once he actually stopped and looked around as if to see if he was followed. Quickly Steell and Dick darted under a doorway, and, seeing nothing to arouse his suspicion, Francois went on. The lawyer was taking no chances to-night. It was too good a game to spoil. That they were on the right trail at last he was morally certain. Ray's experience had given him the first clue. After that it was easy. For two days Dick had shadowed the valet, and seen him changing crisp $10 bills in half a dozen different places. The lawyer could have had him arrested at once, but he was after bigger game. It was not enough to arrest Francois. He was only the tool. They must get the man higher up, the man who employed him. That man, the lawyer felt equally confident, was Keralio. He was the master counterfeiter. The first step to take was to find out where the counterfeiting was done, where Keralio had his plant, and the only way to do this was to follow the valet to his master's secret den.