The man was tall, he wore a long ulster with the collar turned up around his neck, and a slouch hat was pulled down over his eyes. He followed closely in the old man’s trail. The old man halted several times, and as he did so his form seemed to lose its decrepitude. As the light from the street lamps shone upon his face it could be seen that his eyes glared like two living coals; he threw his hand aloft, and so fierce and startling was the action that the man who was following him halted and shrank back for an instant, as if he had been struck. “Vengeance!” the old man hissed, and then he started on again. The street was deserted, save by the old man and the man who was following him. The former walked on, looking up at the tall warehouses and store buildings, muttering to himself. More than once he put his hand up to his head and gazed about in a bewildered manner. His limbs shook under him, for a long time had passed since they had been used to such exertion. The fresh air came so strangely upon him that he panted for breath. Suddenly he halted in front of an old-fashioned three-story brick building near Chambers Street. A beacon-shaped red lamp was burning over the doorway, and upon the front pane of glass was painted: THE RED DRAGON INN. Established by William Sill--1776. It was an old landmark in the neighborhood, and it had always been a hostelry. In revolutionary times it was a post roadhouse, and was famous as the headquarters of many of the British officers. During later days it became the resort, at the noonday hour, of many of New York’s most staid and solid merchants, whose places of business were in the vicinity. At this time the ground floor was occupied by a man who ran a saloon and restaurant, and who rented out the upstairs rooms to transient lodgers. No improvements had been made about the place, and it stood just as it did when it was conducted by its original owner. As the old man paused in front of the inn the sound of voices and the clinking of glasses came from within. He walked up to the door and opened it. Then he stepped into the saloon, staggered up to the bar and, in a low tone, ordered a glass of toddy, which was supplied to him. A number of men were seated at the tables, drinking, and none of them paid any attention to the newcomer, who drank his toddy while standing and leaning against the bar. The old man placed his empty glass back upon the counter, and facing the bartender, said: “I want a room for the night.” “There is only one empty,” the bartender replied. “It is in the attic.” “That will answer my purpose.” “It will cost you one dollar.” The old man drew a purse out of his pocket, took out the amount, and handed it to the bartender, who asked: “Do you want to retire now?” “I do,” the old man answered. “I will show you the way up.”