urs the
shadowed man joined Billy Coleman.

The suspected thief occupied a flat at 271 West 154th Street. From this
time Dougherty or one of his deputies followed every movement of Billy
Coleman. Day after day they tracked him through the city from one resort
to another. In the evening they followed him home, and kept a watchful
eye on the premises. Coleman's actions were provokingly innocent. At
nightfall he frequently left home, accompanied by his wife, but only to
take their little dog out for an airing. On a Sunday evening while
Dougherty was shadowing Coleman and his wife, hoping that they might
lead him to some clue to the robbery, he was amazed to see them enter an
Episcopal church, where they remained throughout the service. Bishop
Potter, to whom Dougherty had confided his suspicions of Coleman,
laughed heartily when the detective mentioned this incident.

"Surely, Dougherty, you don't want me to believe that one good churchman
would rob another, do you?" the Bishop exclaimed.

Dougherty felt that as the case stood he was making no headway. Coleman,
who perhaps realized that he might be under suspicion, made no false
moves. The detective resolved upon another plan of action. He decided to
have Coleman charged with the robbery and arrested, after which he was
certain to be released for lack of evidence. He calculated that an
official discharge from any complicity in the stealing of the jewels
would so reassure Coleman that he might afterward betray himself,
through lack of caution, to watchful detectives. Coleman was accordingly
arrested, and held for the grand jury in Cooperstown. The case against
him was too weak to stand. The grand jurors were much absorbed in
conclusions drawn from the blood-stains found on the floor of the
basement of the Clark Estate office, and when it was shown that Coleman
bore no sign of scratch or scar they promptly discharged him. Coleman
left Cooperstown a free man, and chatted amicably with Dougherty as they
rode together on the train to New York. On reaching the city they parted
company at the Christopher Street elevated station, and Coleman rode on
up town to his home, serenely confident of Dougherty's failure and of
his own security.

This was in October. From the moment of his arrival in the city Coleman
was shadowed day and night. Detectives rented a room in a house across
the street from Coleman's flat. Whenever he left his home they
cautiously followed him. For a time he