he stood looking the place over. It was a tall, narrow place which
had, centuries past, been used as a dwelling. What it was at present
Warren could not guess, unless it had fallen to the level of the damp,
rat infested hovel where crime and disease are bred daily in old towns
like Warsaw. Strange carvings of dragons and monsters upheld the eaves
and formed the heavy water spouts. The tiny, windows were bare and
curtainless. They swung open in the wind that blew from the Vistula.

Warren stood looking. He was all alone in the street





CHAPTER IV

HOT ON THE TRAIL


The men had disappeared, and there seemed no further need for caution.
As Warren approached nearer, he noted the dark, tumbledown building,
which looked as though it had been a ruin for centuries, dismal and
uninhabited. Only one thing was noteworthy. The door, a stout one
heavily barred with ornamental straps of ancient and rusty iron, was
fitted with strong, modern hinges, and had been closely fitted in anew
frame. Warren's keen eye quickly grasped these details as he sauntered
past, and stopped before 'the building, but what he did not see, and
could not guess, was the tiny auger hole bored close to one of the iron
frets. Behind that hole stood a man in whose cunning brain suspicion
lurked; and Warren did not know that after that close scrutiny the