"Oh, yes--it was 104."

"Well, then, the new building has swallowed it up--that's
certain."

He tilted his head back and surveyed the half-finished front of a
brick and limestone flat-house that reared its flimsy elegance
above a row of tottering tenements and stables.

"Dead sure?" he repeated.

"Yes," said Granice, discouraged. "And even if I hadn't been, I
know the garage was just opposite Leffler's over there." He
pointed across the street to a tumble-down stable with a blotched
sign on which the words "Livery and Boarding" were still faintly
discernible.

The young man dashed across to the opposite pavement. "Well,
that's something--may get a clue there. Leffler's--same name
there, anyhow. You remember that name?"

"Yes--distinctly."

Granice had felt a return of confidence since he had enlisted the
interest of the Explorer's "smartest" reporter. If there were
moments when he hardly believed his own story, there were others
when it seemed impossible that every one should not believe it;
and young Peter McCarren, peering, listening, questioning,
jotting down notes, inspired him with an exquisite sense of