"How shall we strike out?" asked George Van Pelt, as he and our hero came to a halt under the elevated railroad.

"It's more than likely they'll try to sell those things to some stationer or at a second-hand store," answered Nelson. "And the chances are that they'll sell 'em as quick as possible."

"You are right there," answered his partner. "Supposing you take one side of the street and I'll take the other, and we'll ask at the different stores."

This was agreed upon, and soon our hero had visited five stores.

Nobody had seen the thieves or knew anything about them.

"It's no use," he thought, and then entered a sixth establishment, kept by an old man.

"Yes, I saw them," said the old man. "They were here early this morning, and wanted to sell me the things dog-cheap. But I was suspicious of them, so I didn't buy."

"Do you know where they went next?"

"One of them said something about taking the elevated train."

"You didn't watch them?"

"No; I was going to, but a customer took my time."

The old man described both Darnley and Snocks, and also some of the goods offered, so there could not possibly be any mistake.

"I hate thieves," he concluded. "I hope you catch them."

"If we need a witness, will you aid us?" asked Nelson.

"I will."

"Thank you," said Nelson, and left him one of the business cards he and Van Pelt had had printed.

On the corner he beckoned to his partner and told Van Pelt of what he had learned.

"We'll ask the elevated railroad gate-keeper below," said Van Pelt.

But at the station they got no satisfaction.

"I came on an hour ago," said the gate-keeper. "The other man has gone home."

"And you haven't seen 'em?" asked Nelson.

"No. The fact is, so many people come and go we hardly notice anybody."

"That is so," said George Van Pelt, as he and our hero walked away. "Nelson, I am afraid we are stumped."

"It looks like it," said the newsboy soberly.

"What shall we do next?"

"I hardly know, George. I hate to give up. The stuff we lost cost too much money."

"Do you suppose either Darnley or Snocks went home?"

"It's possible."

"We ought to visit their homes and make sure."

The matter was talked over for several minutes, and it was finally agreed that Nelson should visit the homes of the two boys while George Van Pelt returned to the news stand to relieve Paul.

Billy Darnley lived on the fourth floor of a large rear tenement on one of the dirtiest streets of the East Side. To get to the place our hero had to pass through an alleyway filled with rubbish and teeming with neglected children. Hardened as he was to the rougher side of city life he could not help but shudder at the sight.

"Poor things! they are a heap worse off than myself," was his thought.

At a corner of the alleyway he ran across a small girl and one several years older. The little girl was a cripple, and the larger girl was making fun of her deformity.

"Limpy leg! Limpy leg!" she cried shrilly. "Limpy leg, aint you ugly!" At this the cripple began to cry.

"Stop that!" called out Nelson. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. This little girl can't help being a cripple. Perhaps some day you'll be a cripple yourself, and then you won't want anybody to make fun of you." And at this the big girl fell back abashed.

"She always does that," said the cripple. "She's awful mean."

Nelson asked the girl where Billy Darnley lived, and the girl pointed out the rooms. Soon the newsboy was knocking on one of the doors to the apartment.

"Come in," said a rough voice, and Nelson entered, to find himself confronted by a burly man slightly the worse for the rum he had been drinking.

"Is this where Billy Darnley lives?" he asked.

"I'm Billy Darnley," answered the man.

"I mean Billy Darnley, the newsboy."

"That's my son. He lives here, but he aint here now. He's out selling papers."

"Has he been home in the last two or three hours?"

"No."

There was an awkward pause, and the man eyed Nelson curiously.

"What do you want of Billy?" he questioned at last.

"I want to recover some things he stole from my news stand," answered our hero stoutly.

"Things he stole?" cried Darnley senior.

"Yes."

"Are you sure Billy stole them?"

"Yes—he and another boy named Len Snocks."

"When was this?"

"Last night."

"Humph! Tell me all about it."

Nelson did as requested. Before he had finished Darnley senior gave a long yawn.

"Hang that boy!" he observed. "He's going from bad to worse. He will end up on the gallows if he aint careful."

To console himself he got out a black bottle and took a deep drink. Evidently he was not deeply impressed.

"Have you any idea where Billy is now?" asked our hero.

"No. He'll keep shady, I suppose. I can't help you. Go to the police. If he gets hung some day it will be his own fault."

The man turned his back on Nelson as if to end the interview. In a minute more our hero was in the street again.

"A fine father for any boy to have," was his thought. "I reckon one is about as bad as the other, and perhaps both will end up in the electric chair."