"Maybe they've carried him into one of these back-door dens, and maybe
they whisked him into a hack here, and are a mile or two away by now."

"But we must follow them. He may be only wounded and can be rescued.
And these men can be caught." I was almost hysterical in my eagerness.

"Aisy, aisy, now," said the policeman. "Go back to your room, now.
That's the safest place for you, and you can't do nothin' at all out
here. I'll report the case to the head office, an' we'll send out the
alarm to the force. Now, here's your door. Just rest aisy, and they'll
let you know if anything's found."

And he passed on, leaving me dazed with dread and despair in the
entrance of the fateful house.

The sounds of drunken pleasure were lessening about me. The custom had
fallen off in the saloon across the street to such extent that the
proprietor was putting up the shutters. The saloon on the corner of the
alley was still waiting for stray customers and I crossed over to it
with the thought that the inmates might give me a possible clue. A man
half-asleep leaned back in a chair by the stove with his chin on his
breast. Two rough-looking men at a table who were talking in low tones
pretended not to notice my entrance, but their furtive glances gave
more eloquent evidence of their interest than the closest stare.

The barkeeper eyed me with apparent openness. I called for a glass of
wine, partly as an excuse for my visit, and partly to revive my shaken
spirits.

"Any trouble about here to-night?" I asked in my most affable tone.