Dan's eyes sparkled with joy at the success of his plan.

"Now tell me," he said, drawing the newsboy aside to a place where they would not be overheard.

"First give me my car fare."

"All right. Here's a quarter. Never mind the change."

"You've made a fortun' by fiddling, you have," said the newsboy, in surprise.

"I am not a fiddler. I am a detective."

The newsboy whistled.

"You're a young one."

"Never mind that. Go ahead with your story."

The newsboy described his following Hartley to Donovan's.

Hartley went in, and he directly afterward.

"What sort of a place is it?" asked Dan.

"It's a saloon."

"Perhaps he only went in for a drink," suggested Dan, uneasily.

"No, he didn't call for nothing to drink. I saw him take out some money and give to the man and the woman."

"What man and what woman?"

"They was the Donovans."

"How long did you stay?"

"Ten minutes. I axed old Donovan to buy a paper, and he wouldn't. Then I sat down for a minute, makin' believe I was tired. They looked at me, but I didn't appear to be noticin' 'em, and they let me stay."

"Did you see anything of a little girl?" asked Dan, eagerly.

"Yes, there was a little gal came in. The woman called her Katy."

Dan's spirits sank. It was Mrs. Donovan's daughter, he feared, not the child he was seeking.

"How did she look? How old was she?"

"About five or six years old."

He added a description of the little girl which quite revived Dan's hopes, for it answered in every respect to Althea.

"Did you hear the little girl say anything?"

"Yes, she told her mother she wanted to see Dan."

Dan's eyes glistened. It was Althea, after all.

"It's all right," he said. "You needn't tell me any more. You're a trump."

"Have you found out what you want to know?"

"Yes. Have you anything to do for the next two hours?"

"No."

"Then I'll pay you another dollar to go to the place with me. I think I could find it myself, but I can't take any chances. And don't say a word about what you have seen."

"I won't. Is this little gal your sister?"

"She is my adopted sister, and she has been stolen from us."

"Then I'd be willing to help you for nothing. I've got a little sister about her size. If anybody stole her, I'd mash him!"

"Come along, then."

The two boys boarded a car, and in forty minutes got out.

"That's the place," said the newsboy, pointing out Donovan's, only a few rods away.

"All right. You'd better leave me now, or you may be remembered, and that would lead them to suspect me. Here's your money, and thank you."

"I hope you'll find your sister."

"Thank you. If I do, it'll be through your help."

Dan did not at once enter Donovan's. He stopped in the street, and began to sing "Viva Garibaldi."

Two or three boys gathered about him, and finally a couple of men. One of them handed him a three-cent piece.

"Grazio, signor," said Dan, pulling off his hat.

"What part of Italy do you come from?" asked one of the men.

"Si, signor, I come from Italy," answered Dan, not considering it prudent to understand too well.

"Oh, he don't understand you. Come along."

"His hair doesn't look like that of most Italians."

"Pooh! I'd know him for an Italian boy anywhere."

At this moment the door of the saloon opened, and Dan, putting his violin under his arm, entered.