“I know it—­but I’d like to see him, nevertheless,” answered the young newspaper man.

A little later the two reporters came down into the street and separated.  Larry went home, but after supper that evening he walked again in the direction of the lonely tenement.  He wanted to see the policeman, whose post took in that section of the city, and make some inquiries of him.  The officer might be able to throw some light on the sudden appearance of the strange man.

Larry found the policeman after some search.  The officer, as soon as he learned Larry was from the Leader, was very willing to tell all he knew, for the Leader was a paper that always spoke well of the police, and the force appreciated this.

“It sure is a queer house,” said Patrolman Higgins.  “I remember the time it was filled with families, but they all moved away because the owner didn’t make any repairs.  The only person there was a crazy German who’s daffy on airships.  He got out to-day.”

“I’ve heard of him,” replied Larry.  “But is he the only one in there?  I heard there was another man stopping there.”

“Now that you speak of it, I shouldn’t wonder but what there was,” answered Higgins.  “I saw two lights in there to-night, for the first time.  I’ve got sort of used to seeing one in the window where the crazy German is puttering away at his airship, but awhile ago I noticed a gleam in another part of the house.  I took it for a second lamp the German had lighted, but now that I think of it, seems to me it was on the other side of the house.  I shouldn’t wonder but what you’re right.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter much,” said Larry, who did not want to arouse too great interest in the matter.  “I just thought you might happen to know him.”

“I’ll make some inquiries in the neighborhood,” the officer went on.  “I don’t want that shack to get to be a hanging-out place for tramps.  It was bad enough to have the German there, but he paid his rent to the owner, who’s about as crazy as the airship inventor.  I’ll look up this other fellow.  Drop around to-morrow night and I may have some news for you.”

“I will,” replied Larry, satisfied that he had put his plan into operation.  “It’s nothing special, but I had an idea I might get a story out of the chap.”  And he went home again.

Larry reported to Mr. Emberg the next morning all the details of the visit to the strange house.

“If some East Indian chooses to hide himself it can’t make much difference to us,” said the city editor.  “I judge him to be a native from that name.  I’ve got another story for you to go out on.  It’s about——­”

At that instant the telephone on Mr. Emberg’s desk rang insistently.  He broke off what he was saying to Larry to grab up the instrument.

“Hello.  Yes, this is Mr. Emberg.  Oh, is that you, Harvey?  What’s that?  Reported to the police as missing?  Are you sure it’s him?  Great Scott!  If that’s true that’s a corking good story!  That explains some things!  You take the police end and I’ll send some one up to the house!  Good-bye!”