Listening at the door to make sure that the two had really gone below, Bob, a second later, glided into the semi-dark hall-way.
The room in which the conversation had been held was numbered 47. Following this came No. 45, and the youth had no trouble in tracing the numbers until he came to No. 13, opposite to which was No. 12.
Bob listened at the door, and fancied he heard the breathing of a sleeper within.
He tapped lightly, and then a little harder.
“Who’s there?” came in a hurried voice, accompanied by the creaking of a bed.
“Open the door, quick!” cried Bob, through the key-hole.
“What’s the matter—house afire?” exclaimed the occupant of the room, as he bounced up and unlocked the door.
“No, but I—Frank Landes!”
“What, Bob! is that really you?”
And the young man held out his hand.