It took the form of a cablegram--a belated cipher communication from
the police of America to the police of Great Britain--which on being
decoded, ran thus:

"Just succeeded in tracing 218. Sailed ten days ago on
_Tunisian_--Allan Line--from Canada, under name of Hammond.
Woman with him. Handsome blonde. Passing as sister. Believed
to be 774."

Now as this little exchange of courtesies relative to the movements
of the noted figures of the underworld is of almost daily occurrence
between the police systems of the two countries in question, Mr.
Narkom had only to consult his Code Book to get at the gist of the
matter; and when he did get at it, his little fat legs bent under
him like a couple of straws, his round little body collapsed into
the nearest chair, and he came within a hair's breadth of having a
"stroke."

For the _Tunisian_, as it happened, had docked and discharged
her passengers exactly thirteen hours before, so that it was safe
to declare that the persons to whom those numerals alluded had
unquestionably slipped unchallenged past the guardians of the
port, and were safely housed at this minute within the intricacies
of that vast brick-and-mortar puzzle, London; yet here they were
registered in the Code Book, thus:

"No. 218--Nicholas Hemmingway, popularly known as 'Diamond
Nick.' American. Expert swindler, confidence man and jewel
thief. Ex-actor and very skilful at impersonation. See Rogues'
Gallery for portrait.

"No. 774--Ella Plawsen, variously known to members of the
light-fingered fraternity as 'Dutch Ella' and 'Lady Bell.'
German-American. Probably the most adroit female jewel thief in
existence. Highly educated, exceedingly handsome, and amazingly
plausible and quick witted. Usually does the 'society dodge.'
Natural blonde, and about twenty-five years old. No photograph
obtainable."

Within forty-five minutes after Mr. Narkom had mastered these facts
he had rushed with them to Cleek, and there was a vacancy in the
list of special constables from that time forth.

"Slipped in, have they?" said Cleek when he heard. "Well, be sure of
one thing, Mr. Narkom: they will not have gone to a hotel--at least
in the beginning--they are far too sharp for that. Neither will
they house themselves in any hole and corner where their sallying
forth in fine feathers to make their little clean-up would occasion
comment and so lead to a clue. Indeed