In fact, several of the bloated, red-faced beings they had encountered had stared speculatively at the two well-dressed, clean-cut lads, as if wondering what they could be doing in such a part of the city. Moreover, Jack and Tom each had quite a sum of money in his pockets, and it was really tempting fate to walk about in such a section with well-lined pocketbooks.
So they turned to retrace their steps. But in the narrow, badly lighted streets, they inadvertently took a wrong direction, and before long they found themselves in a still more ill-favored section.
“I wish we could see a policeman,” remarked Jack, looking about; “I hardly like to ask the way of any of those ruffianly looking men we’ve passed.”
“Nor I,” was Tom’s rejoinder. “Well, let’s keep right on our way, and hurry up, and we are bound to get out of this neighborhood before long.”
Accordingly they quickened their pace. They were passing a dark doorway leading into a particularly rickety-looking rookery, when a man, who was coming out of it hastily, almost collided with them. He wore ragged clothes, but something about him seemed strangely familiar to Jack. The next instant he knew what it was.
The man, who had a flaming red beard, was the same fellow who had driven the yellow auto.
Jack made an impulsive leap for him.
“I want to speak to you,” he began; “you——”
But the man, after casting a hurried, half-alarmed look at the two lads, dodged back into the doorway like a rabbit into its burrow. Without considering the risk he was running, Jack dashed after him into the dark, ill-smelling hallway of the tumble-down building.
“Stop!” he shouted at the top of his voice, but the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps was the only sound that came back to him from the thick velvety darkness of the hallway.