good, and the others agreed with him, thereby
letting themselves and the patient Brodie in for some remarkable
developments in a pursuit which began by a simple coincidence and was
destined to end in a manner which none of them dreamed of.

Devar opened the window again.

"Arthur," he said, "did you happen to notice whether or not that fellow
is carrying a reflector?"

"Yes, sir. He has one. I saw him looking into it when I drew
alongside."

"Ah, that puts a different complexion on the affair, as the young man
said when he kissed his best girl and tasted Somebody's Beauty Powder.
Don't press, Arthur. Just keep him in sight till I consult the law."

As the outcome of a hurried discussion, Brodie received a fresh
mandate. During the straightaway run he was not to approach the gray
car nearer than sixty yards or thereabouts--in effect, remaining within
the same block if possible, but, if the gray car stopped in front of
any dwelling, he was to slacken speed and pass it, taking the middle of
the road, and holding himself in instant readiness to halt or turn as
directed.

"By the way, how are you fixed for petrol?" added Devar.

"I filled the tanks, sir, before leaving the garage. We're good for
the trip to Albany and back."

Brodie's tone was quite cheerful. He, too, had been reviewing the
situation, and the presence of a uniformed policeman had dispelled the
last shred of suspicion that some stupid joke had been worked off
outside the Police Headquarters when a fearsome looking tough was
introduced to him as the Chief of the New York Detective Bureau.

Devar was about to congratulate the roundsman on the prospect of an
all-night journey if Brodie's chance phrase were fated to come true,
when he glanced at Curtis, and elected to remain silent. They were
passing the Plaza Hotel, and his friend was peering up at its square
white bulk. Obviously, he was striving to locate Hermione's room.
Most probably he failed, for it is no easy matter to pick out the
windows of any particular set of rooms in a huge building while rushing
along at twenty-five or more miles an hour. Further, it was now past
one o'clock in the morning, and most respectable people were in bed, so
the solemn mass of the hotel was enlivened by very few rectangles of
light.

But Curtis fancied, as did Devar also, that the illuminated blinds of
three windows on the second floor might possibly be those of Suite F.,
and each wondered, if the sur