topped at the Central Police Station to pick up a couple of
plainclothes men who were waiting for them and the taxi sped through the
almost deserted streets at breakneck pace, heading for the waterfront.

A few minutes later the harbor police launch was streaking across the
quiet waters of the bay. It threw a wake that curled and widened, and in
it danced the broken reflections of the harbor lights.

The Honorable Milton Waring ushered them into the library with a smile.
He was quite calm as he cleared away the blueprints and invited them to
find seats.

"You are just in time, gentlemen, to witness the end of the comedy," and
he pressed a button beneath the edge of his desk as he spoke. "Pass
around the cigars, Blatch, like a good fellow-- Well, upon my word!"

"Arrest that man!" cried Ferguson, springing after J. Cuthbert Nickleby,
who had made a dash towards the French doors which opened on the verandah.

"It's all right, sir. I've got him," assured one of the detectives who
was waiting without for some such move. As he came through the doorway
the click of the handcuffs was quite audible to the startled group within
the room.

"What's the meaning of this, Waring?" shouted Nickleby, his face
distorted with rage. "Are you trying to frame something on me? Take off
these bracelets, damn you!"

"I'd advise you to sit down, Nickleby, and keep quiet. You are under
arrest and you'll know all about it in a few minutes. Ah, good evening,
gentlemen, I'm afraid there aren't chairs enough to go around; but make
yourselves at home please."

From the hallway they filed into the library--McAllister, of the
_Recorder_; President Wade, of the Canadian Lake Shores Railway;
Nathaniel Lawson, ex-president of the Interprovincial Loan & Savings
Company; Timothy Drexel and another director of the same concern.
Detective Sainsbury from Headquarters and Parsons, official court
stenographer, brought up the rear with Pardeau, star reporter for the
_Recorder_. Their faces were serious and their entry partook of the
solemnity of a jury bringing a verdict into court.

A brief whispered colloquy with his editor quickly smoothed the
perplexity from Brennan's face. McAllister had picked up Pardeau on the
street and had sent a belated message to the office. It was a big
"story" that was breaking and he ordered Brennan and Pardeau back to
their desks with instructions to hold the galleys till he arrived
shortly. Kerr could hand