BUT the man had chosen a closer destination. At the very moment that the sedan had begun its chase, the man on foot stopped at a house midway in the block.
He heard the approach of the sedan as he waited for admittance to the house. Instinctively he drew his body into the protecting shadows of the doorway.
The effort to gain concealment was a failure. The eyes that peered from the sedan were too keen. An exclamation came from the car; it stopped suddenly as the driver applied the brakes.
But as the sedan’s momentum ceased, the door of the house was opened, and the man on the steps was admitted.
Within the house, the hunted man gasped breathlessly as he stood in the dimly lighted hallway. He had been admitted by a dull-faced, brutal-looking servant, and this individual now studied him in a rather antagonistic manner.
“What do you want?” demanded the servant, in guttural tones.
“I must see Mr. Albion. At once!” The visitor’s reply was urgent. “Tell him it is important.”
“What is your name?”
“Berchik.”
The servant turned and went up the stairs.