"Anything new, Conklin?" he asked.
"No, sir; he's been lying low; looks like he knew he was spotted this time."
"Good. Stay here until I can notify the police that we have run down the quarry. It will be necessary to obtain a search warrant for the Manhattan Chemical Company's place. In the meantime, if Chatham should attempt to make tracks, hang on to him like his shadow and send back word here as soon as you can."
"All right, sir."
Sturgis, after leaving Conklin, walked along the street which the detective was watching and carefully inspected every house on the block. Almost all were huge office buildings; but here and there an old-fashioned brown-stone front stood out conspicuously against the broad expanse of brick walls and iron columns. Half way down the street one of these old houses stood well back from the street line behind a small garden. The reporter stopped near this and read the numbers on the adjoining buildings.
"This is directly back of the Manhattan Chemical Company's office," he mused. "I wonder who lives here. It looks like a respectable place enough. One could obtain a good view of the rear of the Manhattan Chemical Company's office from the back windows. H'm——"
He stood thoughtfully considering what pretext he could use to gain admission to the house, when suddenly he became aware of the presence of a man who had approached with noiseless steps.
"Ah, is that you, Mr. Sturgis?" said the calm, sardonical voice of Doctor Murdock.
The reporter started inwardly but gave no outward sign of surprise.
"Were you about to do me the honor of calling?" continued the chemist.