Billy hurried away and watched the smoker with all the keenness he could bring to bear upon the matter.
For some time the boy was led a merry chase, for the man at first seemed to suspect that he was watched, but at last he appeared to think that he had baffled the young shadower, for he became bold and sauntered along at his ease.
Billy saw him walk up the steps of a noted clubhouse, and then stepped back to wait for his reappearance.
For this purpose the boy stationed himself in a doorway near at hand.
An hour passed, and while many came out of the club this particular one did not, and the street Arab grew a little impatient.
“Seems to me he’s going ter roost there,” said Billy to himself. “I’m booked for this doorway all night if he does, for I intend to keep my agreement with Mr. Carter—to watch that man till doomsday.”
All at once there sounded above the boy footsteps on the stairs, and as he looked around he was pounced upon eaglelike by a hand that seemed to sink into his bones.
“Ouch!” cried the boy, as he drew back.
“Not a chirp, you young imp,” hissed a voice, as he was pulled up over the steps.
Billy, of Mulberry Street, was dragged up the stairs and down a long corridor, after which he was pulled into a room by his tormentor. He heard the door locked behind him, and then the gas was quickly turned on. Then he was jammed roughly into a chair, after which he got a look at the man who had caught him.