Finally he turned into a crooked little street near the outskirts of the
city. Chester also turned the corner, just in time to see the man
descend a pair of steps into the basement of what was apparently an
unoccupied house.
The lad hurried up and arrived in time to hear the man give a peculiar
knock at the door--one loud tap, followed by three soft taps, then
another loud one.
Chester walked back around the corner, where he stopped to think.
"If only I could get in there," he said to himself. "I wonder--"
He stopped, struck by a sudden idea.
"By Jove! I believe it can be done," he said.
He continued to pace up and down, apparently deep in thought.
Occasionally he stopped to look in the direction from which he had
followed his prey to the rendezvous.
After nearly an hour the lad, after a glance down the street, slipped
quietly into a doorway. Apparently the thing for which he had been
waiting was about to come to pass.
Footsteps sounded on the street, coming closer. Save for the one lone
pedestrian, the street was deserted. The footsteps approached closer, and
Chester gathered himself for a spring. As the man came abreast of the
doorway in which the lad was hiding, Chester hurled himself upon him.
With one hand the lad clutched his victim about the throat, and with the
other he struck out heavily. There was a stifled groan, and the man fell
limp in the boy's arms.
Glancing hurriedly about to see that there was no one in sight--no
witness to his deed--Chester dragged the man into the doorway.
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