“I’ll give you three hundred to-night, and to-morrow we will talk about the balance.” “Fork out the three hundred.” Darwin took a roll of bills out of his pocket, counted out the amount, and passed it over to Brockey, who smiled again and shoved the money into his trousers pocket. “How will you proceed?” Darwin asked. “I’ll make up my mind later,” Brockey replied. “To-morrow I shall expect to hear----” “Don’t count on hearing to-morrow.” “Why not?” “I may not be able to find him to-night.” “All right.” “I’ll meet you here to-morrow afternoon at four o’clock. Are you going?” “Yes.” “I guess I’ll go with you.” Darwin and Brockey left the room. They passed the detective, and Darwin said: “Did you notice that fellow?” pointing to Carter. “Certainly,” Brockey answered. “He’s got a jag on.” They halted in the center of the room, and looked back at the detective, who did not stir. “Suppose he should be shamming?” Darwin remarked, in an undertone. “G’way,” Brockey retorted. “He may have heard what we were talking about.” “Not much.” “I have a sort of feeling that he is a spy.” Brockey gazed intently at Carter. Without uttering a word, he strode across the room and clutched hold of the detective by the shoulder, shaking him vigorously. “Wosh de ma-asher!” Carter growled, making no attempt to resist. “Wosh de ma-asher,” he mumbled, a second time, in a maudlin tone. “Lesh a fel’ alone.” “Get up out of here!” Brockey exclaimed, and he jerked the detective out of the chair. Carter struggled from side to side, and his acting was perfect. No one in the place paid any attention to him and Brockey except Darwin. “Shay, ain’t chue a-goin’ t’ lea’ up?” Carter mumbled, and he caught hold of Brockey by the arms, to steady himself. “Where do you live?” Brockey asked. “Nowhere.” The rascal was entirely deceived. He firmly believed that the detective was nothing more than a drunken “bum.” He let go his hold on him, and, with a grunt of well-feigned disgust, Carter staggered out of the den. Brockey and Darwin followed. The detective disappeared around the corner. The instant he was out of sight he straightened up and darted into the doorway of a house, where he made a change in his disguise. He was anxious not to lose sight of Darwin, and he hastened back around into Houston Street again. He almost ran into Brockey, who had separated from Darwin, who was hurrying off up the street in the direction of Broadway. Brockey did not recognize the detective, and, with an oath, he passed around the corner. Carter started after Darwin. He reached Broadway a few seconds later than he, and by a lucky chance he was able to get on the same car with him. Carter was sure that he had struck the right trail. Indeed, he was firmly convinced now that Darwin and Rich were implicated in the murder, that they had formed together some dastardly plot. The detective did not make any effort to surmise what that plot was.