time his words would certainly carry conviction...






V





DESPAIRINGLY, Granice gazed up and down the shabby street. Beside
him stood a young man with bright prominent eyes, a smooth but not
too smoothly-shaven face, and an Irish smile. The young man's nimble
glance followed Granice's.

"Sure of the number, are you?" he asked briskly.

"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.