power in his hands that you can tell what he
is."

Two days after his appointment as a commissioner, Gibson demanded the
resignation of Police Chief Sweeney. He gave Brennan and John the story,
another typewritten statement, to which was attached his letter to the
mayor calling upon him for Sweeney's removal.

"That's a pretty one," commented Brennan. "Now, if the mayor fires
Sweeney, Gibson will be able to name the next chief. If he doesn't let
Sweeney go, Gibson will be able to holler that the mayor isn't
supporting him."

John was still reluctant to believe Gibson's moves were as sinister as
Brennan viewed them. There were times when, under Brennan's logic, he
began to doubt Gibson's sincerity.

Then Gibson disappeared. For three days he was absent from his office.
Brennan and John sought him at his home, his club, without success.

"He's up to something," predicted Brennan. "There'll be a story popping
when he shows up again."

* * * * *

It was Saturday morning when John received a note from Consuello
inviting him to spend Sunday afternoon and evening at the ranch home of
her father and mother.

"I am keeping my promise," she wrote. "Would you care to visit with me
at the home of my father and mother, Sunday? It is such a delightfully
interesting old place. I'm certain you will enjoy it.

"If you find yourself able to accept this invitation let me know by
telephone and we will arrange for me to pick you up when I drive out
early in the afternoon. I do hope you can come."

It was signed, "Sincerely, Consuello Carrillo."

He found her telephone number listed beside her name. The fact that she
resided in Los Angeles while her parents apparently lived out of the
city puzzled him.

"Town house and old country home," he said to himself as he picked up
the telephone to call her.

"Oh, I'm so glad you can go with me," she said. "I have a car. Shall I
call for you at two? Or shall I meet you somewhere else you may
suggest?"

He thought of the commotion it would cause in the neighborhood of his
home to have her call for him there.

"Could I possibly meet you at Seventh and Broadway?" he asked, fearing
that such a request might be considered extraordinary.

"Seventh and Broadway at two, then," she said.

A liveried chauffeur was at the wheel of the big touring car in which
she met him. It frightened him somewhat to think that such wealth was
hers. Curiously, he was relieve