ation abruptly with this question:

"Carter, have you ever happened to hear of a character known as Hobo
Harry, the Hobo King?"

"I have," replied the detective. "I have heard about him in a vague sort
of way. I have no particular information about him, if that is what you
mean."

"No; I merely wished to know if you were aware that there is such a
character."

"Yes. I have heard of the fellow."

"Do you know what he is?"

"A yeggman, isn't he?"

"He is the king of all the yeggmen. He is the master mind, the
controlling spirit of all the outlawry and lawlessness that goes on from
one end of our big railroad system to the other. Hobo Harry costs us, in
round numbers, anywhere from three to ten thousand dollars a month."

"Really?" asked the detective, smiling.

"Yes--really. This is no joke. There isn't a bit of thievery, however
petty it may be, or a scheme of robbery, however grand and great, which
they do not turn their hands to under the guidance of Hobo Harry--and we
have about got to the end of our patience."

"I suppose," said Nick, "that all this means that you want me to find
Hobo Harry for you. Is that the idea?"

"That is precisely the idea. Do you suppose you can do it?"

"I can, at least, make the effort."

"I should tell you one thing before you become too sanguine."

"Well, what is it?"

"Hobo Harry is largely a mystery. There are those--detectives, I
mean--who insist that he does not exist at all, save in imagination."

Nick nodded.

"They say that he is only a figurehead; that he is only a name; that he
is in reality an imperceptible, intangible idol, whom hoboes worship,
and to whom they refer as their common leader, while, in reality, there
is no real leader at all."

"It is possible that they are correct in that idea," said the detective
slowly.

"It is possible, but it is not likely. There is too much system about
their operations. I am at the head of a great system, and I know how
such things are done. I am confident that the operations of these
thieves--these yeggmen--could not have been carried on so successfully,
and so systematically, without a head--a chief; and so I, for one,
believe thoroughly in the existence of Hobo Harry."

"Well?" asked the detective. "What does all this lead to?"

"I am coming to that. I have had every railroad detective in my employ
searching for Hobo Harry for months--I might say for almost a year, and
without success. I have employed two of