"Nearly to the next corner," answered Reggie, who leaped into his racing seat and started away like the wind. Burke hurried down, following the path of the other, until he came to the house. He looked at the sign, and then glanced about him. He saw an automobile approaching, and intuitively stepped around the steps of the house next door, into the basement entry. He had hardly concealed himself when the machine stopped in front of the other dwelling. A big Swede, still carrying his emigrant bundle, descended from the machine, and called out cheerily in his native language to the occupants within the vehicle. Burke, peeping cautiously, saw two buxom Swedish lassies, still in their national costumes, step down to the street. The machine turned and passed on down the street. Burke saw the man point out the sign of the employment agency, and the girls chattered gaily, cheered up with hopes of work, as he led them up the steps. The door closed behind them. Burke quietly walked around the front of the house and up the steps after them. He had made no noise as he ascended, and as he stood by the wall of the vestibule he fancied he detected a bitter cry, muffled to an extent by the heavy walls. He examined the sign, and saw that it was suspended by a small wire loop from a nail in the door jamb. Bobbie reached upward, took the sign off its hook, and turned it about. "Well, just as I thought!" he exclaimed. On the reverse side were the tell-tale letters, "Y.W.C.A." "They are ready for all kinds of customers. I wonder how they'll like me!" was the humorous thought which flitted through his mind as he quietly turned the knob. It opened readily. Bobbie stood inside the hallway, face to face with the redoubtable Pop! Pop's eyes protruded as they beheld this horrid vision of a bluecoat. A cynical smile played about Burke's pursed lips as he held the sign up toward the old reprobate. "Can I get a job here? Is there any work for me to do in this employment agency?" he drawled quietly. Pop acted upon the instinct which was the result of many years' dealings with minions of the law. He had been a contributor to the "cause" back in the days of Boss Tweed. He temporarily forgot that times had changed. "That's all right, pal," he said, with a sickly smile, "just a little token for the wife and kids." He handed out a roll of bills which he pressed against Bobbie's hands. The policeman looked at him with a curious squint. "So, you think that will fix me, do you?" "Well, if you're a little hard up, old fellow, you know I'm a good fellow...." Up the stairs there was a scuffle. Bobbie heard another scream. So, before Pop could utter another sound he pushed the old man aside and rushed up, three steps at a time. The first door he saw was locked--behind it Bobbie knew a woman was being mistreated. He rushed the door and gave it a kick with his stout service boots.