"So they didn't manage to sink my old chum, Sherlock Nobody Holmes, eh?
Tommy, my boy, how are you?"

"Did the spy get rescued?" Tom asked, as the long hand-shake ended.

"Nope. Went down. But we nabbed a couple of his accomplices through his
papers."

"I got a new mystery," said Tom in his customary blunt manner. "I was
going to give these papers to my boss, but when I got your letter I
decided I'd give 'em to you."

He told the detective all about Adolf Schmitt and of how he had
discovered the papers in the chimney.

"You say the place had already been searched?" Mr. Conne asked.

"Yes, but I s'pose maybe they were in a hurry and had other things to
think about, maybe. A man came there again just the other day, too, and
said he wanted to read the gas-meter. But he looked all 'round the
cellar."

"Hmm," Mr. Conne said dryly. "Tom, if you don't look out you'll make a
detective one of these days. I see you've got the same old wide-awake
pair of eyes as ever."

"I learned about deducing when I was in the scouts," said Tom. "They
always made fun of me for it--the fellers did. Once I deduced an
aeroplane landed in a big field because the grass was kind of dragged,
but afterwards I found the fellers had made tracks there with an old
baby carriage just to fool me. Sometimes one thing kind of tells you
another, sort of."

"Well, whenever you see something that you think tells you anything,
Tommy, you just follow it up and never mind about folks laughing. I
shouldn't wonder if you've made a haul here."

"There was one of 'em that interested me specially," ventured Tom; "the
one about motors."

Mr. Conne glanced over the papers again. "Hmm," said he, "I dare say
that's the least important of the lot--sort of crack-brained."

Tom felt squelched.

"Well, anyway, they'll all be taken care of," Mr. Conne said
conclusively, as he stuffed the papers in his pocket.

Tom could have wished that he might share in the further developments
connected with those interesting papers. But, however important Mr.
Conne considered them, he put the matter temporarily aside in the
interest of Tom's proposed job.

"I just happened to think of you," he said, as he took his hat and coat,
"when I was talking with the steward of the _Montauk_. He was saying
they were short-handed. Come along, now, and we'll go and see about it."

Mr. Conne's mind seemed full of other things as he hurried along the
street with Tom after him. On the fe