Harry took the bit of paper gratefully, and looked at it.
“Why—”
“What’s the matter?” John Boland surveyed the wrapper of his cigar with keen interest, deftly closing a small broken place in it.
“This address!” exclaimed Harry.
“Well, what about it?”
“It’s in the lowest, most depraved section of the city.”
“Yes, I noticed that.”
Harry looked up at his father quizzically.
“You did?”
“Yes.”