there are satisfied, and it is nobody else's business.

We walked on slowly, then, half-way down the block, Indiman stopped
me. "What did I tell you?" he whispered.

The house was of the English basement type, and occupied two of the
ordinary city lots; nothing particularly remarkable about that, and
I said as much.

"But look again," insisted Indiman. I did so and saw a man standing
at the door, evidently desirous of entering. Twice, while we stood
watching him, he rang without result, and the delay annoyed him. He
shook the door-knob impatiently, and then fell to researching his
pockets, an elaborate operation that consumed several minutes.

"Lost his latch-key," commented Indiman. He walked up the steps of
the entrance porch. "You might try mine," he said, politely, and
held out the key picked up the night before at Fifth Avenue and
Twenty-seventh Street.

"Huh!" grunted the man, suspiciously, but he took the little piece
of metal and inserted it into the slot of the lock. The door swung
open. Amazing, but what followed was even more incredible. The man
stepped into the hall, but continued to hold the door wide open.

"You're coming in, I suppose," he said, surlily.

"Certainly," answered Indiman. "This way, Thorp," he called at me,
and most unwillingly I obeyed. We passed into the house and the
door closed behind us. Our introducer turned up the gas in the old-