“How is the market to-day, Mr. Cary?” asked the young man. “My eye has been off the tape to-day, and I am carrying a lot of U. P.” Could any one have been close enough, they would have seen that while the young man was asking this question, and others, and receiving nervous and embarrassed answers to them, he was closely watching the elderly man. If Mr. Cary had been a sharp detective, he would have thought that these sharp looks meant something, but as he was not, of course, he apparently did not observe them. Finally the young man said: “Are you prepared to follow me?” “Why, yes; that is why I am here, I suppose. Are you the one who was to meet me here?” “Mr. Cary, are you acting in good faith?” “Why, yes, what do you mean?” “Did you come here alone?” “Entirely so.” “Did any one know of your coming here besides yourself?” “Not a single person.” “Will you give your word that Nick Carter is not in concealment here to see us go off together and to follow us?” “I will swear that I am here alone; that neither Nick Carter nor any one else is in concealment here to follow us.” “Very good; I’ll take your word for it. But let me tell you that if you have deceived me in any way, that you will be punished in a way that you will not like.” “I have not deceived you. No one is with me, and no one could suspect that I was to be here.” “Come along, then.” The young man led Mr. Cary down Twenty-eighth Street to Lexington Avenue, and, turning the corner, hurried him into a nearby doorway. “I do not disbelieve you, Mr. Cary, but I am going to be satisfied.” They stood there a while. Evidently satisfied that they were not followed, he motioned for Mr. Cary to follow him. Their way now was to a rather plain house at the other end of the block. Reaching it, they mounted the steps, the young man tapping at the door. It was opened immediately, and the young man motioned for Mr. Cary to enter. Then he followed, closing the door after him. “Enter the parlor, Mr. Cary,” he said, “and I will call the one you came to see.” He disappeared, running up the stairs. Mr. Cary had a long time to think over the wisdom or unwisdom of his step in again putting himself in the power of the woman who had, the night previous, played him such a scurvy trick. For one who wanted to see him so badly as she had written, the Brown Robin was slow in making her appearance. By and by, however, there was a movement on the stairs, in the hall, and Mr. Cary anxiously waiting, heard the Brown Robin’s voice saying, rather commandingly: “You will be here promptly at nine in the morning?” The voice of the young man who had brought him to the house was heard in reply. “Yes, my sister; but you will not see me until that time.” The other door opened and closed with a bang. Mr. Cary grinned on hearing this. But whether in satisfaction of the departure of the young man, or in pleased anticipation of a _tête-à-tête_ with the Brown Robin, did not appear.