hands of Fate. She moved
uneasily, and, glancing down, he noticed how securely she was bound.
Leaning over, he loosened the curtain cord with which she had been
secured. She sighed as if relieved, and, turning, he left her, as a
discreet tapping at his door announced the coming of the meal he had
ordered.

A night watchman in shirt sleeves brought in the tray softly and set it
upon the table, with a glance of curiosity at the adjoining room. There
was usually an interesting story to be gleaned from the guests that the
detective brought.

"Come on," said the host eagerly, "fall on it, I'm starved."

"Anything I can do?" inquired the night watchman hopefully.

But Brencherly was still uncommunicative. "Nope, thanks."

"Sure?"

"Yes. Good-night--or good-morning. Tell 'em down stairs I'm much
obliged, as usual."

The two men ate heartily and in silence. It was not till the plates were
scraped that either spoke. With the last sip of the soothing beverage
Brencherly closed his eyes peacefully.

"Old man," he said, "this night's work is the best luck I've ever had.
Now, tell me, did the lady say anything at any time? or did she remain
as she is?"

"She didn't say much. Grumbled a little at being moved around; in fact,
I thought she was coming out of it for a minute when we first got her in
here. Then she straightened out for another lap of sleep. Here's her
kit."

He rose as he spoke, and took from the mantel the package she had clung
to during all her enforced journey. He untied the parcel, and both men
bent over its meager contents. Though Brencherly had seen them under the
wavering arc lights of Washington Square, he now gave each article the
closest scrutiny. Nothing offered any clew, except the wallet. That,
worn as it was, showed its costly texture, and the marks of careful
mountings. It was unmistakably a man's wallet, and its flexibility
denoted constant use. Brencherly set it on one side.

"Anything else?" he asked.

The other nodded. He had the most important find in reserve.

"These," he said, and drew from his pocket a bunch of newspaper
clippings. He laid each one on the table. "Now, _what_ do you think of
_that_?" His lean, cadaverous face took on a look of satisfied cunning.
If his colleague had not chosen to take him into his confidence, he
could show him that he was quite capable of drawing his own inferences
and making his own conclusions. He sat back and nonchalantly lit a
cigarette.

The