the pay were
found sufficient.

He supplied the names and addresses of the men who had done young
Robinson's bidding in Central Park. Garrison jotted them down.

"I suppose you know that I am in the detective business myself," he
added, as he finished the writing.

"I thought so, but I wasn't sure," said Tuttle.

"You told young Robinson as much?"

"He hired me to tell him everything."

"Exactly. How much do you expect to tell him of what is going on
to-day?"

"Nothing that you do not instruct," said Tuttle, still feeling
insecure. "That is, if you meant what you said."

"I meant it," said Garrison, "meant it all. You're at work for me from
this time on--and I expect the faithfulness of an honest man, no matter
what you may have been before."

"You'll get it," said Tuttle. "I only want a show to start off square
and right. . . . What do you want me to do?"

"There is nothing of great importance just at present, except to
remember who is your boss," answered Garrison. "You may be obliged to
double-cross Robinson to a slight extent, when he next hunts you up for
your report. He deserves a little of the game, no matter how he gets
it. Take his instructions the same as before. Tell him you have lost
me for a time. Report to me promptly concerning his instructions and
everything else. Do you know the address of my office?"

"You have never been there since I was put on the case," said Tuttle
with commendable candor.

"All right," said Garrison. "It's down in the----"

A knock on the door interrupted. The landlady, a middle-aged woman who
rarely appeared at Garrison's room, was standing on the landing when he
went to investigate, and holding a message in her hand.

"A telegram for you," she said, and halting for a moment, she turned
and retreated down the stairs.

Garrison tore the envelope apart, pulled out the yellow slip and read:

Please come over to 937 Hackatack Street, Jersey City, as soon as
possible.

JERALDINE.

It was Dorothy, across the Hudson. A wave of relief, to know she was
near and wished to see him, swept over Garrison's being.

"Here," he said to Tuttle, "here's the address on a card. Report to me
there at six o'clock to-night. Get out now and go to young Robinson,
but not at the house in Ninety-third Street."

"Why not?" inquired Tuttle. "Its the regular place----"

"I've ordered him not to enter the house again," interrupted Garrison.
"By the way, should