Larry followed behind the policemen, his heart beating a little faster than usual.  He was anxious to see the man who was in hiding, and who, he believed, was the same one he and the fisherman had rescued from the sea.  He believed there was a mystery connected with the fugitive which would make a good story, even if he was an East Indian.

“Easy now,” cautioned Higgins, but Larry thought it was needless, as the heavy shoes of the officers made noise enough to awaken the soundest sleeper.

The bluecoats entered the dark hallway of the tenement.  The doors were void of locks and swung to and fro, creaking on rusty hinges, as the wind blew them.  There was a damp and unpleasant smell in the house, and now and then came queer sounds, that echoed through the deserted rooms.

“Nothing but shutters banging,” explained Higgins, as his companion-in-arms started.  “They’re flapping like a bird’s broken wing, all over the place.  Now for our mysterious friend.”

But for the fact that both officers carried small pocket electric lamps, operated by dry batteries, they would have had difficulty in making their way through the halls and up the stairs, for there were many holes, caused by rotting boards.  As it was they moved along with some speed, until they came to the third floor.

“He’ll be about here somewhere,” whispered Higgins, a needless precaution, as their advance had been already heralded by their heavy foot-falls.

“There’s a light there,” said Storg, pointing to the end of a long hall.  Coming from under a door could be seen a faint gleam.

“That’s where he is!” exclaimed Higgins.  “Come on!”

Larry followed the officers.  Their steps echoed through the silent building.  Forward they went until they came to the door beneath which the light showed.  Higgins tried the knob.  The portal was locked.

“Let us in!  We’re police officers!” he exclaimed.

There was a rustling within the room, but no attempt was made to open the door.

“Open or we’ll break it in!” cried Higgins, and, as there was no answer, but only silence, he put his big shoulder to the frail door.  There was a crackling sound, a splintering of wood and the hinges gave way.  Higgins fairly jumped into the room as the portal fell in.  Storg followed after him, with his hand on his revolver, ready to use it should occasion arise.  But there was no need, for the room was deserted, though a candle burning on a mantel showed there had recently been an occupant in it.

“He’s gone!” cried Higgins, looking around.

At that moment there was a sound in the corridor, and somewhere along its length a door opened.

“He’s getting away!” yelled Storg, as he jumped back into the hallway.  Larry followed, and the policeman flashed his electric lamp.

Then, in the little circle of light cast from the glass bullseye, Larry saw, running down the stairs, the smooth-shaven man he had helped pull from the angry sea on the life-raft.