inished reading to the end of the fascinating explanation.

We might add that it did not. For many weeks the desk remained
standing in Tony's shop and laboratory, and he had the opportunity to
study its contents thoroughly. But it took him only a few hours to
grasp its secret, to add his own brilliant conception to it, and to
form his great resolve. Once more Tony faced the world hopefully and
enthusiastically.

PART II

_Vanishing Valuables_

The police understood Tony's share in the exploits of Scarneck Ed
thoroughly, and, chagrined at their failure to produce proof that
would hold in court, they maintained a close and constant watch on
that gifted gentleman long after crime matters in the city seemed to
have been cleaned up and forgotten. For one thing, they still had
hopes that something would turn up to enable them to round off their
work and lock him up with his former pals; for another, they did not
fully trust his future behavior. Nevertheless, for three or four
months it seemed as though Tony had genuinely reformed. He lived in
and for his laboratory and shop. All day the scouts could see him
laboring therein, and far into the night he bent over benches and
machines under shaded lights. Then, some other astonishing occurrences
distracted their attention from Tony to other fields.

One morning Mr. Ambrose Parakeet, private jewel broker, walked briskly
out of the elevator on the fourteenth floor of the North American
Building and unlocked the door of his office. He flung it open and
started in, but stopped as if shot, uttered a queer, hoarse gurgle,
and staggered against the door-casing. In a moment he recovered and
began to shout:

"Help! Help! Robbers!"

Before long, several people had gathered. He stood there, gasping,
pointing with his hand into the room. The eagerly peering onlookers
could see that beside his desk stood an empty crate. It was somewhat
old and weatherbeaten and looked as though it might have come from a
buffet or a bookcase. He stood there and pointed at it and gasped, and
the gathering crowd in the corridor wondered what sort of strange
mental malady he had been seized with. The elevator girl, with trained
promptness had at once summoned the manager of the building, who
elbowed his way through the crowd and stood beside Mr. Parakeet.

* * * * *

"There! There! Look! Where is it?" Mr. Parakeet was gasping slowly and
gazing round in a circle. He was