"Who are you, and what are you doing in here?" came in an unmistakable Irish voice.
"Excuse me—I—I made a mistake," was the answer; and now Walter recognized the tones of the fellow who had the watch. "I am looking for a man named Harris."
"Well, he doesn't live here,—so you had better get out."
"Will you—er—tell me who lives next door?" asked the man Walter was after, in a lower tone, evidently wishing to gain time ere leaving the building.
"A man named Casey and another named Barton live there. There ain't a Harris on the block. If you——"
"Hold him, please," burst in Walter, mounting the tenement steps. "He has a watch that was stolen from my uncle."
"Shut up, boy!" answered the man fiercely. "My watch is my own, and this is all a mistake."
"There is no mistake. Hold him, will you?"
"I've got him," came from the gloom of the hallway. "I thought he was a sneak or something by the way he was tip-toeing around here."
"You are both of you crazy. I never stole a thing in my life. Let go, both of you!" And then the man began to struggle fiercely, finally pushing the party in the hallway backward, and almost sending Walter headlong as he darted down the tenement steps and continued his flight along the side street.