Lena turned in from the side walk and started toward the steps of the
white stucco house, number twelve eighty-two. Half-way up she paused
irresolutely. She acted as if she was puzzled as to what she should do;
finally she turned, descended the steps rapidly and continued on down
the street.

"That was queer," whispered Bob.

"It looked as though she lost her nerve."

"Why should she be scared to go in where her gang is!"

"Don't ask me. Come on."

Once again they took up the chase. Lena seemed to walk more swiftly than
ever now, and it was not an easy task to keep pace with her and still not
be seen. The night was dark with low-hanging clouds, the street lamps
affording the only light available. Ahead they could see the reflection
from the lights of the main street of the city.

"Do you suppose she dropped a note or anything on that porch back there?"
demanded Hugh suddenly.

"I didn't see her do anything like that," said Bob.

"Nor I. At any rate I guess the best thing we can do is to stick
close to her."

"Yes, and we'd better keep closer too, now that we are coming to where