speaking the telephone rang and Alderson lifted down the
receiver with a nod of dismissal. The detective's hand was on the
doorknob when he turned quickly, viewing with alarm the sudden
bewilderment and blank consternation which had crept into the
contractor's heavy face as he listened to the agitated voice of J.
Cuthbert Nickleby.

"Brady's man? Yes, he's here now--Sure, I'll hold him--No, not back
yet--Sure. Sure I will--Eh? Say, Mr. Nickleby, fer the love o' Mike,
what's wrong?--WHA-AT!"

Alderson wildly jiggled the hook of the telephone instrument, but
Nickleby had rung off. He stared across at the anxious representative
of the Brady Detective Agency, his thick loose lower lip hanging in
dismay. For the moment he was bereft of speech.

"What's the matter?"

"Uh? Matter?" echoed Alderson vacuously. Then he pounded the desk
with his fat fist while his face grew red. "_Matter!_" he shouted.
"You're a heluva detective, you are! That's what's the matter. The
mon--I mean--the papers--in the satchel, you fathead!--stolen right
under your nose!"

CHAPTER VI

AGAIN THE TAN SATCHEL

Swearing fervently, Alderson grabbed the telephone and called for
Podmore at the Queen's Hotel. A few stuttering words of explanation
and the 'phone went dead once more as Podmore banged up the receiver at
his end.

Nickleby arrived first. He strode in through the outer office, leaving
a trail of awed employes in his wake. Alderson, who had rushed forward
to meet him, fell back a step as the banker entered the private office
and banged the door behind him with a force which nearly broke the
glass in the partition. He carried in his hand the tan satchel and
forthwith slammed it down upon the desk and took to pacing back and
forth in speechless wrath. His face was ghastly, his eyes blazing, his
mouth drawn down in an ugly sneer as he turned at last upon the
dumfounded detective.

"You--you blithering idiot!"

"Easy, brother. Keep your shirt on, see!" advised the Brady operative
with justifiable resentment. "There aint nothin' been taken out o'
that there grip while I was watchin' it, that's a cinch. Say, 'bo,
what was in it, anyways?"

Alderson caught Nickleby's eye and shook his head in warning. Nickleby
stepped across the room, opened the satchel and flung out upon the
table a package of blank brown wrapping paper, cut to the size of
bank-notes and fastened together with rubber bands. He pointed his
fin