the financier, "then you think it is a mere _nom
de plume_?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what do you think was the reason for preserving the
anonymity?"

"Well, you see, sir, the book deals with a big subject. It gives
some hard knocks, and the author, no doubt, felt a little timid
about launching it under his or her real name. At least that's my
theory, sir."

"And a good one, no doubt," said Mr. Ryder. Then he added: "That
makes me all the more anxious to find out who it is. I would
willingly give this moment a check for $5,000 to know who wrote
it. Whoever it is, knows me as well as I know myself. We must find
the author."

The sleuth was silent for a moment. Then he said:

"There might be one way to reach the author, but it will be
successful only in the event of her being willing to be known and
come out into the open. Suppose you write to her in care of the
publishers. They would certainly forward the letter to wherever
she may be. If she does not want you to know who she is she will
ignore your letter and remain in the background. If, on the
contrary, she has no fear of you, and is willing to meet you, she
will answer the letter."

"Ah, I never thought of that!" exclaimed Ryder. "It's a good idea.
I'll write such a letter at once. It shall go to-night."

He unhooked the telephone and asked Mr. Bagley to come up. A few
seconds later the secretary entered the room.

"Bagley," said Mr. Ryder, "I want you to write a letter for me to
Miss Shirley Green, author of that book 'The American Octopus.' We
will address it care of her publishers, Littleton & Co. Just say
that if convenient I should like a personal interview with her at
my office, No. 36 Broadway, in relation to her book, 'The American
Octopus.' See that it is mailed to-night. That's all."

Mr. Bagley bowed and retired. Mr. Ryder turned to the secret
service agent.

"There, that's settled. We'll see how it works. And now, Sergeant,
I have another job for you, and if you are faithful to my
interests you will not find me unappreciative. Do you know a
little place on Long Island called Massapequa?"

"Yes," grinned the detective, "I know it. They've got some fine
specimens of 'skeeters' there."

Paying no attention to this jocularity, Mr. Ryder continued:

"Judge Rossmore is living there--pending the outcome of his case
in the Senate. His daughter has just arrived from Europe. My son
Jefferson came home on the same ship. They are a little more
friend