He had supposed when he left the room where he made the change that he would have to return to the neighborhood where Chick had made his great discovery, to pick up Chick’s trail. But he had barely stepped through the main entrance to the hotel when he saw, on the pavement directly in front, a roughly-drawn arrow in red chalk, the head pointing to the north. It was Chick’s trail. “Great luck!” exclaimed Patsy to himself, as he hurried up to the corner. “I’m on as the flag falls.” At the corner the sign showed that Chick had crossed the street to the west side of Broadway, but on reaching the corner on that side, Patsy could see nothing that indicated further direction. “Great Scott!” exclaimed Patsy. “They have taken a car.” He went back to the middle of the street, and, looking about carefully, saw some pieces of paper. He looked for a trail of them, but the wind had evidently blown them away. Searching further, Patsy’s eye was caught by an upright form which fluttered a small red flag, a signal of some kind, used in the operation of the street railway. This upright was a slender rod of iron, but about it was tied a small bit of red cloth. Patsy went to it, to recognize it as one of Chick’s signs. A railroad man came up, warning Patsy away from the signal. “Now, who the deuce did that?” he exclaimed, tearing off Chick’s signal. But Patsy had seen it, and knew that Chick had taken an upbound car. So he mounted the next one, quite certain that Chick’s destination was the Empire Theatre. But, all the same, he kept a sharp lookout for any signal that might have been left by Chick on the way. He saw none, however, until in passing the Empire Theatre, his eye caught a strip of red cloth, a foot long, fluttering from the billboard of the theatre. “Chick’s there,” he muttered. At Fortieth Street he got out and walked back to the theatre, taking off the strip of cloth which had been fastened by a pin, as he entered, placing it in his pocket. As he entered the lobby, a man in ordinary clothes passed out, making a signal to Patsy. Even before Patsy saw the signal he had recognized Chick, though he was disguised by a false mustache and wig. He followed Chick out, and when he came up, Chick said: “My man, who is a woman—the Brown Robin—is in there, looking at the play. The second act is on. “Mountain is in there, too. The Brown Robin talked with Mountain after the first act. What was said between them I don’t know, but whatever it was, the Brown Robin asked something from Mountain which he refused to give or do. “I couldn’t get to him before he went back to his seat.” “Catch him after this act,” said Patsy. “That’s what I want to do,” said Chick, “and I have been thinking it over and how to do it. You see, if we talk with Mountain in the open, the Brown Robin will drop, and that is what we don’t want. “Say, Patsy, you know the manager, don’t you?” “Yes; he’s all right—nice fellow.”