yond the yards of the abutters appeared the rear of the houses on South Washington Square, or West Fourth Street, rising four stories high. On the right and left were other yards. Astro began at the right-hand side of the house and examined the fence foot by foot all round the three sides, till he had come back to the house again at the left-hand side. Then he looked up at the windows of the house opposite. A second examination of the fence opposite the laundry took more time. Meanwhile, Valeska followed him and did her best to interpret his movements.
"Well," he said, as he returned to the laundry door, "what have you discovered?"
She spoke eagerly. "Why, there's a hole broken in the fence on the north side, and it seems to me it's big enough for a baby to crawl through. Besides, as the clothes are hung now, it is well hidden, and little Elsa might easily have got through unnoticed."
"Did you notice her footprints beyond, in the earth of the other back yard?"
"No." Valeska was apologetic.
"Well, they are there. Nothing else?"
"Why, no."
"Look again!"
Valeska went carefully along the fence and finally stopped at some vertical scars half-way up the north wall. "What do they mean?" she asked.
"That's the false half of our Italian friend's tale," said Astro. "Never mind them for the present. Now we'll call at the house opposite."
They left the basement and walked round the block, climbed over some excavations in the street, and rang the bell. A buxom, jolly young woman opened the
