I'm going to look for a man who is too clever for his own good.
He's stayed out of your clutches. He's forgotten more about telephones
than most men know. He's as slippery as an eel and as clever as the
very devil. In one thing only did he err, so far in this chase."

"What's that?" asked the commissioner.

"He didn't wear gloves on the job. That's where we may trip him up."

"They all forget something," said Fosdick, as Drew hurried out through
the door with a bow toward the staring fingerprint man.

The detective hurried down the steps,--passed the sergeant at the
entrance, and turned up his coat collar as he plunged from the building
and lowered his head beneath the down driving snow. The entire matter
was as he had told Delaney. He would have to find who made the prints!

Deep, drifted snow barred his progress as he struck down through a
towering canyon and walked eastward. He had no coherent idea save the
one that he wanted the grip of the open places in his lungs and the
feel of freedom from stifling rooms and skeptical men.

The case had resolved itself into a battle of wits wherein the culprit
who had murdered Stockbridge, by unknown means, had all the advantages.
He was unknown. He had the largest city in the world to hide himself
in. He could strike at any time and in any quarter. Also, the detective
realized, with a chilly oath, the murderer might already be fleeing the
city for the south or west. It would be a natural thing for him to do.

Drew had one undisputed qualification for a detective. He was a worker.
He lacked the Latin sense of deduction, or the cleverness of a great
operative who secured his men through quick brain work and shrewdness.

Hard work, and more work and still more work had won for him the little
position he held in the city. He did not overrate his own powers. He
had failed too often to hold himself too highly. Chance was a big
factor in the criminal game. The members of the criminal tribe worked
through luck and sheer audacity. Many escaped from the net and moved in
the underworld until they made their final mistake which was probably
so glaring it couldn't be overlooked.

Despite the fact that the finger prints were not of record, Drew held
to the swirling conviction that the man he was after was of the
criminal horde. There was much to lead him to this belief. The
cleverness in connecting up the two telephone booths--the warning
through the mail to Stockbridge--the manner i