"I will fix that. I will meet you again in an hour."
And then Dyke Darrel hurried away.
It was almost dark when two men, one old and gray, with a hump on his shoulder, called at a dingy old brick on Clark street and rapped on a narrow door that opened into an alley.
No answer was vouchsafed.
Then the old man turned the knob, but the door refused to yield.
"What's wanted, you fellers?"
The voice came from behind the two men. Turning, they saw a stout, ill-looking fellow, with unkempt hair and beard, peering in at them from the street.
"Ain't this the house where Mrs. Scarlet stops," questioned the elderly man.
"Mebbe 'tis."
"Where's the woman now?"