"Out for a walk?" he asked, with a smile.

Ned nodded and Jimmie grinned.

"The owner of this house," Rae went on, "is an old friend of mine. We
met first, years ago, in San Francisco. I'm staying here while in the
town. By the way, I was about to visit your quarters."

"Come along," Ned said. "We must be getting back."

Rae left the room, saying that he would bring a raincoat, and Jimmie
pointed to a rear apartment where an old Chinaman with a long, sinister
cicatrice on his left cheek was bending over a table.

"That's the Chink who brings our grub," he said. "What is this Rae
person doing here? I don't eat no more grub that Chink brings."

Ned made no reply, for a swinging closet door attracted his attention at
that moment. Inside the narrow closet, on the rough floor, lay a pair
of European shoes. Ned slipped forward and seized one. When Rae
returned it was hidden in a capacious pocket.

"What is it?" whispered Jimmie.

"If I'm not much mistaken," was the reply, "it is the shoe that made the
tracks we have been following."

"Then this Rae person didn't always enter the old house where we are
stopping by the front way," commented Jimmie. "Gee," he added, "I'll