The basement was not as barren as she expected to find it. There was an
open central space, on one side of which were rooms for the barber
shop, baths, and a pool room, all more or less occupied by guests and
attendants. On the opposite side, at the rear, were baggage and
storerooms. Just beside her she noted a boot-black's stand, where a
colored boy listlessly waited for customers.

"Shine, miss?" he inquired.

"No," said Josie in a businesslike tone; "I'm looking for the printing
office."

"Secon' door, miss," indicating it with a gesture; "but dey ain't
nobody dere. De room's mos'ly kep' locked."

"I know," said Josie, and advancing to the door drew out her keys.

Her very boldness disarmed suspicion; the boy was not sufficiently
interested to watch her, for a man came out of the barber-shop and
seated himself in the boot-black's chair.

This sort of lock didn't phase Josie at all. At the second trial she
opened the door, walked in and closed the door behind her.

It was a small room, dimly lighted and very disorderly. Scraps of paper
were strewn around the floor. Dust had settled on the ink-rollers of
the foot-press. A single case of type stood on a rack and the form of a
bill-of-fare--partly "pied"--was on a marble slab which formed the top
of a small table. On an upturned soap-box was a pile of unprinted menu
cards. Josie noted a few cans of ink, a bottle of benzine, and a few
printing tools lying carelessly about, but the room contained nothing
more.

Having "sized up" Tom Linnet's printing room with one swift glance, the
girl stooped down and began searching among the scraps that littered
the floor. They were mostly torn bits of cardboard or crumpled papers
on which trial impressions had been made.

Josie expected momentarily to be interrupted, so she conducted her
search as rapidly as was consistent with thoroughness. She paid no
attention to the card scraps but all papers she smoothed out, one by
one. Finally, with a little cry of triumph, she thrust one of these
into her handbag. She made this discovery just back of the press, and
glancing up, she noted a hook that had formerly been hidden from her
view, on which were impaled a number of papers--the chef's "copy" from
which various bills had been printed. Running through these papers she
suddenly paused, pulled one away from the hook and tucked it into her
bag.

She was fairly satisfied, now, but still continued her search amongst
the litter. I