t help wondering what particular kind of business you and he
could have, seeing how it was transacted," pursued the detective.

Dodd glowered at the floor. "Look here, Mullaney! There's a whole lot
about that man I want to know, if you can help me and keep your mouth
closed. I haven't got much confidence in the work you fellows do--they
tell me you can't detect mud on your own boots."

Mr. Mullaney pulled his chair out from behind the papers and leaned back
in it and crossed his hands over his stomach and smiled without a trace
of resentment.

"I might tell you something right now about that tall friend of yours
that would jump you, Mr. Dodd--I'm that much of a detective!"

"Tell me, then."

"Just as it stands it's guesswork--considerable guesswork."

"What does that amount to?"

"A great deal in my business. Take this city of one hundred thousand!
I'm the only man in it who is making guesswork about strangers his
special line of work. The rest of the citizens rub elbows with all
passers and don't give a hoot. There are a good many thousand men in
this country whom the law wants and whom the law can't find. That fellow
may be one of them, for all I know. I guess he is, for instance. Then I
make it my business to prove guesswork."

"You must be doing a devil of a rushing business!" sneered Dodd.

"I manage to make a good living. I don't talk about my business, for if
I should blow it I wouldn't have any. I say, I _guess_! Then I spend my
spare time hunting through my books of pointers. For ten years I have
read every newspaper I could get hold of. I come in here and study
papers from all over. Every crime that has been committed, every man
wanted, every chap who has got away, I write down all I can find out
about him. Then, if anything comes up to make me guess about a man I
begin to hunt my books through."

"Well, if I'm any good on a guess," snorted Dodd, "that renegade who
just insulted me is down in your books, somewhere. You'd better hunt."

"It's slow work and eats up time," sighed Mr. Mullaney.

Dodd looked at him for a time and then began to pull crumpled bills from
his waistcoat pocket. He straightened five ten-dollar bills, creased
them into a trough, and stuck the end toward the detective.

"Follow his trail back. I never heard of your book scheme before. Take
this money for a starter. If you can't find him in your books, pick out
half a dozen of the worst crimes any man can commit and hitch 'em