The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-07-17

followed 1t. Miss Jane herself ana the solution of that mystery solved the even more tragic one in which we were about to be involved. I say we be- cause 1t was borne in on me at about that time that. the things that coneern- ed Margery Fleming must concern me henceforth. whether I willed it so or otherwise.
 At o'clock that night things remain ed about the same. The man Hunter had sent to investigate. the neighbor- hood and the country just outside of the town came to the house about and reported nothing discovered ; Hunter called me by telephone from town.
 Gan you take the 9:3o up ?, he ask cd. .'f~A
 "Yes; think so. Is there anything new?" fE
 Not yet. There may be. Take a cab at the station and come to the cor ner of Mulberry street and Park lane. You'd better dismiss your cab there and wait for me-"
 I sent word upstairs by Bella, who was sitting in the kitchen. her heavy face sodden with grief, and, taking my hat and raincoat-it was raining a light spring drizzle-I hurried to the station. In twenty-four minutes was in the city and perhaps twelve minutes more saw me at the designated corner with my cab driving away and the rain dropping off the rim of my hat and splashing on my shoulders.
 I found a sort of refuge by standing under the wooden arch, of gate, and it occurred to me that, for all nay years in the city, this particular neigh borhood was altogether strange to me. Two blocks away in any direction 1 would have been in familiar territory again.
 Back of me warehouse lifted six or seven gloomy stories to the sky. The gate stood in was evidently the en- trance to its yard and, in fact, some uncomforta ble movement of mine just, then struck the latch and almost pre-. cfpftated me backward by it's sudden opening. Beyond was a yard full of shadowy wheels and packing cases. The street lights did not penetrate there, and with an uneasy feeling that almost anything in this none too saw ory neighborhood might be waiting there struck a match and looked at my watch. It was twenty minutes after 10. Once a man turned the cor ner and came toward me, his head down, his long ulster Tapping around his legs, Confident that it was Hunter, I stepped out and touched him on the arm. He wheeled instantly, and in the light which shone on his face saw my error.
 Excuse me-" I mumbled. q mis- took my man."
 He went on again without speaking, only pulling his soft hat down lower over his face. looked after him until he turned the next corner, and knew; I had not been mistaken-it was War drop The next minute Hunter appeared from the same direction, and we walk ed quickly together. I told him who the man just ahead had been, and he nodded without surprise.
 Did you ever hear of the White Cat,'' he asked-"Ittle political club?" "Never."
 "Im member of it. he went on rapidly. ''It's run by the city ring. or, rather, it runs itself Be good fellow while you're there and keep your eyes open. It's a queer joint,'
 The corner we turned found us on a narrow. badly paved street. The bro- ken windows of the warehouse still looked down on us. and across the street was an ice factory, with two de serted wagons standing along the curb.
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