icity in the
theft of that p-p-picture." Mr. Blake threw back his coat and displayed
a detective's shield attached to an aggressively red suspender brace.

Esper Indiman bowed ironically. "I presume that my presence at Police
Headquarters is necessary?" he inquired.

"Yes, sir. I have a coach in waiting outside, and we will start at
once, if you please." Mr. Blake, under the stimulus of his professional
functions, lost his embarrassed air and became severely business-like
and official. "This gentleman will have to accompany us," he continued,
looking at me.

"The coffee, Bolder," called our host, "and never mind the sweets." I
drank a demi-tasse and lit a cigarette. "Ready," announced Indiman, and
we descended to the coach, Mr. Blake bringing up the rear and carrying
the precious picture enveloped in a silken table-cover.

"What reward is offered, officer?" asked Indiman as the carriage drove
off.

"One hundred thousand dollars, sir. It will be a big thing for me
if--if--" He stopped, a trifle embarrassed.

"Ah, those ifs!" quoted Indiman, musingly.

The chief of the detective bureau received us in his private room. He
listened attentively to Blake's report, but seemed rather puzzled than
gratified by its triumphant peroration. Now the young man felt that he
had done a big thing, and this non-committal attitude of his superior
chagrined him. He unrolled the covering in which the picture had been
wrapped.

"There!" he said, half resentfully. The chief looked carefully at the
picture and turned to Indiman.

"Do you desire to make any explanation, Mr. Indiman, as to how this
picture happens to be in your possession?"

"Certainly," was the prompt reply. "I bought it for a small sum a month
ago on the lower Bowery. The dealer's name was Gregory, I think."

Young Mr. Blake sniffed incredulously. A messenger handed a couple of
telegrams to the chief. He read them with knitted brows and then
touched a call-bell.

"Send in Officer Stone," he ordered.

Mr. Stone immediately made his appearance. In his hand he carried a
flat, square parcel which, in obedience to a further order, he
proceeded to unwrap. I uttered an involuntary cry, for it was nothing
less than a replica of the famous portrait of the "Red Duchess." A
replica, indeed!--it would take an expert to decide which of the two
was the copy; they were absolutely alike, even to the detail of the
rough edges, the marks of the blunted knife.

"This picture wa