He picked the lock quickly and stepped into a dark hall. There were no signs or sounds of life within the house, but all was darkness. Chick drew his revolver, and then took from his coat pocket his lantern. Feeling for the parlor door, he entered that room and listened. Then he flashed his lantern. It was empty. By the light he located the stairs, and shutting it off, cautiously climbed them to the second floor, where he listened again. There was no sound of anything. Again flashing his light, he found an open door in front of him. He entered. On the bed was a lot of women’s clothes. He examined them. It was a complete woman’s costume. On a chair was some men’s apparel. Chick went back to the woman’s clothes and muttered: “It is just what I thought.” He gave a hasty glance at the bureau. On it was a lot of paint and cosmetic; several false beards, mustaches and wigs. “I’ve got this for a certainty.” He bounded out of the room, going hurriedly into every part of the house. It was empty; not a soul in it. He went to the front door, and as he did so he heard some one on the outside. He darted into the parlor and not a moment too soon, for some one entered and hastily ran upstairs in the dark. Quick as a flash and as a light shone forth on the second floor, Chick slipped out of the front doors and down the steps. Reaching the sidewalk, he sounded a low whistle. Promptly came the response; Chick bounded in its direction. Patsy appeared from under a stoop; Chick went to him. “Who went into that house?” he asked. “The same one who came out. He came back all of a sudden, as if he had just thought of something, nearly catching me. Who came out just now?” “I did.” “The devil!” “Yes; I’ve been through the house. There wasn’t a soul in it.” “But the woman who went in?” “Patsy, I’ve tumbled to a big thing. The woman who went in and the man who came out are the same person. But hurry off, Patsy, rig up and find my trail. There’s business on hand.” Patsy dashed away and was hardly out of sight, when Chick saw the young man come from the house and hurriedly pass up Seventeenth Street. Chick was after him quickly, a piece of red chalk in his hand. The lineman had disappeared. CHAPTER VIII. A DEEP GAME. For some time, as a matter of convenience for making changes and as a meeting place for himself and aids, Nick had maintained a room in the hotel where, in the late afternoon of the day in which these events took place, he had taken off his makeup as Mr. Cary. It was to this place that Patsy hurried to make the change that would prevent him from being recognized by the Brown Robin. It did not take him long, and when he turned out into the street again, in his dress suit and mustache, he looked like a veritable young man about town—a handsome swell.