For several days they had shadowed the Frenchman constantly, until to-night they were rewarded by seeing him start with a suit case in the direction of the Bronx. They quickly gave chase, the lawyer confident of results. It was not part of his plan, however, to hurry matters or do things prematurely. To-night they would merely reconnoiter. They would content themselves by watching the premises, seeing who came and went, and trying to obtain a glimpse of the interior. If the evidence was incriminating enough to make a raid successful, it would always be time enough to call in the police. Keralio, he was also well convinced, had something to do with the missing diamonds, and possibly the present investigation would throw some light on the mystery surrounding Kenneth himself. He had made no mention of his suspicions to Helen, but he could not help feeling that in some way, yet to be discovered, his old comrade had become involved with a band of crooks. How otherwise explain his acquaintance with Keralio, an utter stranger of dubious antecedents. How explain the loss of the diamonds? The explanation Kenneth had given was decidedly fishy. Parker did not believe a word of it--in fact, frankly expressed, his opinion was that his vice-president had disposed of the gems. Had he himself not seen Kenneth driving about the Bronx with Keralio at an impossible hour? Had not Helen discovered Francois conversing on intimate terms with his master? It all looked decidedly bad; only time could unravel it all. It was a fearful thing to suspect a man of Kenneth's standing, but everything pointed to his being involved in a vast network of crime. He was aroused from his reflections by an exclamation of warning from his companion. "Quick--there he goes!" whispered Dick. The valet had suddenly made a sharp turn to the right, and was lost to view. But quick as he was, Dick was quicker. The young man was a little ahead of the lawyer, and, putting on a spurt of speed, he reached the corner just in time to see the Frenchman and suitcase disappear into a grimy, dilapidated looking tenement at the end of a blind alley. "We've run the fox to earth," whispered Steell exultantly. "Could any melodrama wish for a more appropriate _mise-en-scene_?" grinned Dick. "Come opposite, and find out what we can see from the outside." Crossing the street they took up positions in the shadow of a doorway. The house which the Frenchman had entered was all dark and apparently tenantless, except on the top floor where lights could be faintly seen behind hermetically sealed shutters. Straining his ears, Steell thought he could hear the steady hum of machinery in motion. With an exclamation of satisfaction, he turned to his companion: "We've got 'em, Dick, we've got 'em. Do you hear the presses going?"