old man protested shrilly. "Better say nothing about this letter and
the key. You'll get into trouble for letting a stranger come in here and
carry away evidence. Better keep out of the law, Etienne." He grabbed
the "No Trespassing" sign for a hand-hold and climbed over the fence.
"I'll come back and tell you, Etienne. But keep mum," he advised.

"It is his smile--it makes me break the law," mumbled the old man.




VIII

THE KEY TO A DOOR IN BLOCK TEN

Walker Farr gave the first policeman--a fat and sweltering individual--a
piece of gruesome news and in return casually asked the location of
Block Ten.

The policeman grudgingly growled the information over his shoulder while
waiting for the station to answer the call from his box.

The young man, taking his time, found the place at last, one in an
interminable row of tenement-houses, all identical in structure and
squalor, bearing the mark of corporation niggardliness in their cheap
lumber and stingy accommodations.

The hallway that Farr entered was narrow and stifling--stale odors of
thousands of dead-and-gone boiled dinners mingled there, and a stairway
with a greasy handrail invited him. The key bore a number. He hunted