"Now for a try at the room on the next floor," said Larry in a whisper, as he found himself in the corridor. "It's only a slim chance, but a reporter has to take all that come his way."
He found the room Mr. Jackson had described, and knocked on the door. There was a sound from within, as though some one had arisen from a chair. Then a voice asked:
"Who's there?"
"Does Mah Retto live here?" asked Larry, determining on a bold plan.
Hardly had he spoken the words when the door was quickly opened.
CHAPTER XIX
GRACE ON THE TRAIL
Larry saw, standing before him, framed in the doorway from which streamed the glare from a big reading lamp, the man of mystery—the fellow who had escaped from the tumble-down tenement—the man he and Bailey had pulled ashore on the life-raft.