"I didn't think of that, sir; but I suppose there is something in your
way of looking at it, and as there isn't much chance of getting them,
anyhow, without any clue, or description--" his voice died away.

Walking quickly up the steps John Steele opened the door, murmured a
perfunctory "Good night" and let himself in. But as he mounted to his
chambers, some of the moment's exultation that had seized him at sight
of the man, revived.

"He has come back--he is here--in London. I surely can lay hands on
him--I must! I will!"

* * * * *




CHAPTER VIII

A CHANGE OF FRONT


HE found the task no easy one, however, although he went at it with his
characteristic vigor and energy. Few men knew the seamy side of London
better than John Steele: its darksome streets and foul alleys, its
hovels and various habitations. And this knowledge he utilized to the
best advantage, always to find that his efforts came to naught. The
snares he set before possible hiding-places proved abortive; the
artifices he employed to uncover the quarry in maze or labyrinth were