from my unknown friends, and to put myself in a good position to use my
revolver if necessary.

The man stepped in and showed his star. He was the policeman I had met
when I had run shouting into the street.

"I suspicion we've found your friend," he said gravely. "You're wanted
at the morgue."

"Dead!" I gasped.

"Dead as Saint Patrick--rest his sowl!"




CHAPTER IV

A CHANGE OF NAME


"Here's your way, sor," said the policeman, turning into the old City
Hall, as it was even then known, and leading me to one of the inner
rooms of the labyrinth of offices.

The odors of the prison were heavy upon the building. The foul air from
the foul court-rooms and offices still hung about the entrance, and the
fog-laden breeze of the early morning hours was powerless to freshen
it.