eagerly as though she would say something. Before she could speak, if she had intended to, a sound as of some one moving in the darkness behind her, caused her to draw back.

"Please come in," she said breathlessly.

Matt entered the hall. The girl closed the door behind him and then, with the lamp shaking in her hand, led him into a room off the hall.

The room was evidently a parlor, although its furniture was meager and shabby.

"Please sit down," said the girl, placing the lamp on a table. "Mr. B—Mr. Jerrold will be here in a few moments. Would you like to read while you're waiting?"

Matt started to decline, but the girl had already picked up a book from the table, opened it and was handing it to him.

He looked at her in astonishment. From her frightened face his eyes fell to the book that was quivering in her hand. There was an appeal in her manner which caused him to take the book.

"Thank you," said he.

The book was opened at the fly leaf. On the leaf was written the following:

"You are trapped. I would have warned you, if I could, but he would have killed me. Now you are in the house, you can't get away. Do whatever you are told to do and all will be well. Lay the book back on the table, and don't let any one know what you have read here."

Matt was astounded. Trapped! And he had walked into the trap with his eyes wide open!

Who was the girl and why had she run the risk to warn him? And what good was her warning to do if he did not take advantage of it and make his escape?

"Now you are in the house, you can't get away."

He read those words again, and after he had read them he looked about the room curiously. There were two windows in the room and they were screened with thick curtains. Matt, however, could see no one. If the trap had been sprung where were the ones who had sprung it?

He realized that if he made an attempt to get out of the house now, those who had entrapped him would immediately conclude that the girl had given him a warning. Thus he would not only fail to get away, but would bring punishment upon the girl for her attempt to help him.

"Do whatever you are told to do and all will be well."

He read that over again and made up his mind that he would follow the advice. He laid the book back on the table, and, just at that moment, the girl re-entered the room.

"I have read that book," said he.

"Here's a newspaper," said she.

As she held the paper in front of him she pointed to an article, evidently intending that he should read it.

The girl was a mystery to Matt. From her manner there was no doubt about her being anxious to do whatever she could to shield him.

Leaving the paper in his hands, she walked over to the table, opened the book and deftly extracted the fly leaf. Then she vanished from the room once more.

Matt drew his chair closer to the table so that he could get the full benefit of the dim light.

The first thing he noticed was that the paper was a week old. It was a Chicago daily. The column to which the girl had called his attention was headed, "Burglaries Continue! Astonishing Series of Robberies in South Chicago are Still Kept Up! Thieves Make Off With Loot and Leave Not a Clue Behind! Police Authorities Baffled! Latest Victims Hartz & Greer, Jewelers!"

Here followed an account dealing with a number of mysterious burglaries, but Matt, because of the danger in which he found himself, did not give the article the attention he would otherwise have done.

He did wonder, however, why it was that the girl had pointed out the article to him. While he was wondering, a step sounded in the hall and a form showed itself in the hall door.

The man was Brady!

Matt sprang up. Brady came into the room with an easy air and gave vent to a short laugh.

He was quite a different looking man when out of his greasy overclothes, but there was no doubting his identity. Matt's fist had left a bruise on the side of Brady's face, and the spot was covered with a square of court-plaster.

"Surprised?" queried Brady, dropping into a chair.

Before seating himself he was careful to draw the chair in front of the hall door.

"Were you the one who sent me that telegram?" asked Matt.

"Guilty!" was the chuckling response. "You were expecting to meet Jerrold, eh? I was a little in doubt as to whether you'd bite at the bait, but took a chance. You're a mighty accommodating young fellow, King. Why, you came all the way out here, at this time of night, just to give Jerrold those papers! Didn't it strike you as being a little bit queer that Jerrold should have asked you to come and see him when it was his business to go and see you? And then, again, how did you think Jerrold got hold of your name and address? Oh, well, you've a lot to learn yet, my lad."

"I'm learning you pretty fast, Brady," said Matt. "You have fooled me, but you've gained nothing by it."

"I think I have," was the other's cool reply.

"You'll not get that bundle of papers."

"No? Haven't you got them with you?"

"I left them where they'd be safe."

"Then you suspected there was something a little off-color about that telegram?"

"Yes."

"Plucky boy! Nevertheless, you dropped into my trap, and that's the main thing. Those papers cost me a good deal of scheming, and if you were really thoughtful enough to leave them in a safe place, I'm mighty sorry."

"You can search me," said Matt, "if you're not willing to take my word."

"I'll search you quick enough."

"Then hurry up; I want to get away from here."

"Those papers are not the whole of it," went on Brady. "I want to make you a proposition, King. I need a motorist for the Hawk, and I think you'd about fill the bill. How would five hundred a month strike you?"

"Five thousand a month wouldn't strike me. In the first place, Mr. Brady, I don't like your methods and wouldn't work for you at any price; and, in the next place, I am already in the employ of the Lestrange people."

"You'll work for me all right whether you like my methods or not." There was an ugly look in Brady's eyes and an ugly note in his voice. "You're just the sort of youngster I need, and now that I've got a grip on you I don't intend to let you get away."

"It takes two to make that sort of a bargain!"

Matt had edged around toward one of the windows with the intention of making a break through the door.

Brady got up.

"What are you waiting for, Pete?" he called.

Matt turned a quick gaze about him, wondering from which direction Pete was to appear. Then, quick as a lightning flash, the curtain behind him gave way and fell in smothering folds over his head and shoulders. Two brawny arms encircled him like the jaws of a vise.

He fought with all his strength, and tried to yell to Carl. But one effort was as ineffectual as the other.

Pete and Brady had him between them, and he was utterly powerless.