“No; the woman herself,” said one of the voices. “Don’t contradict me,” said Masson. “It was the woman’s sister. I’ve got it straight. That may make some little trouble for me, but not much. It will make more if they get onto the other job. “But I want you two out of the way to make sure that they don’t get on. Take a trip to Chicago, St. Louis, or the devil, for four or five weeks. I’ll pay for it. “Now, then, you see what I mean. Will you get out right away? I’ll stake you well.” “I’m game to go on the next train,” said one of the two. “I ain’t so ready to go,” said the other, “but if it cuts any ice I’ll do it.” “Well,” said Masson, “it will cut a good deal of ice with me. I can’t afford to take any chances now. I wish now that I’d never gone into the job, seeing what turn things have taken. “But the thing is, are you ready to go?” “Yes.” “When will you go? To-night?” “Yes.” “Where to?” “Chicago, if you say so.” “Well, I do. It is now near five o’clock. Meet me at half-past seven at the Forty-second Street Station, and I’ll hand you the tickets and the stake. Is that settled?” There was a movement of chairs as if the three men were rising, and Patsy slipped down from his perch and from behind the door. He was out in the saloon in a position to see them when they came from the room. “I needn’t worry about Masson,” said Patsy to himself. “He can be picked up at the station. I’ll follow the others to find out who they are.” His chase after these two was not a long one, though it did carry him to the Bowery, to which place the two hurried. The two toughs, for such, indeed, they were, reaching that famous thoroughfare, quickly made for a saloon which was well known to Patsy through frequent visits to it in the way of business. So skillfully had his shadow work been done that neither of the two toughs had even seen him. Entering this place close behind them, Patsy was surprised and not gratified to see within it an old acquaintance, Bally Morris. But what had rather annoyed him he quickly saw was likely to turn out to his advantage. No sooner had this Bally Morris seen the two Patsy was following enter, than he went up to them and began a quarrel with them, charging them with having gone back on him in some matter. It was clear to Patsy that the two had no wish for a quarrel at the time, and he saw them get out of the place as soon as they could. And he changed his tactics at once. Slipping out, he tore off his beard and false mustache, letting the two go where they would, believing that he would get trace of them at half-past seven at the Grand Central Station. Having got into his own proper person, he went back into the saloon to find Bally Morris. That amiable young person recognized Patsy at once, and was not, apparently, anxious to see the young detective. “Oh, ho,” thought Patsy. “He’s afraid of me. He’s been up to something and thinks I am on.” Asking Morris to take a drink with him, he said: