“Well, I don’t know,” said Patsy. “Anyhow, they’re the queerest brother and sister that I ever ran up against. Say, Chick, is it the fashion for women to box?”
“I hear it is,” said Chick.
“Well,” said Patsy, “that little one is no fool at the game. And she has got the pluck of a professional.”
“I got the name on the plate of the house they went into. It is Rainforth.”
“Then you got the house they went into?” asked Patsy.
“Yes, and the number,” replied Chick. “Now we have got to find out something about the people who live in that house.”
“Small chance of finding anything to-night, or rather this morning,” said Patsy. “That’s a job for to-morrow.”
Patsy had hardly spoken these words when a policeman turned the corner, and, seeing the two young men there, stopped, casting suspicious glances at them.
“What are you loafing there for?” he asked.
Instead of replying, Chick said: