it was on the way home from roland's room in the dark and silent side streets that i first discovered i was being trailed. since receiving sadie's report of milbourne's visit to her office i had expected this. it troubled me little. my position as commander-in-chief kept me behind the lines, and they would not learn much by following me. my mail i got from the post-office myself, and our telephone conversations as a rule would not have conveyed anything to an outsider, if he did succeed in intercepting them. at the same time it was annoying to know oneself watched. i wondered if there was any advantage to be gained from a counter stroke. since they had succeeded in bringing me into the open, i had a mind to take an open shot at them. i began to lay my plans forthwith.

my shadow picked me up as i issued from my house next morning. he waited outside the restaurant where i had my breakfast and accompanied me to the office. looking out of my office window i could actually see him sitting on a bench in bryant park opposite. he was a slender young man with an unwholesome complexion and mean, sharp eyes, a "sleuth" of the cheapest type. i wondered somewhat since they thought me worth following, that they had not chosen a better instrument than that.

he had a good long wait, for i sent out for sandwiches at lunch time. at two o'clock he was relieved by a man, considerably beefier but not a bit more intelligent-looking. it apparently had not occurred to either of them to investigate if i was watching them.

i determined to reach back at my enemies through their own spy. having telephoned sadie to have two good men meet me at the new amsterdam hotel at five-thirty, i sallied forth. my shadow resumed his attendance at my heels in the most obvious way. what kind of a fool did he think i was! it was child's play to shake him off. i merely went through the drug-store in the times building and downstairs to the subway station. i crossed under the tracks, mixed in the crowd on the up-town platform, and ascended to the street again. i saw my gum-shoe artist no more.

i met the two men sadie sent me, gave them their instructions and went home. my only fear now was that i might not be able to find my trailer again. but bye and bye to my satisfaction i saw the beefy one loafing across the street. i went out and dined well, while he looked through the restaurant window. i took in a show, letting him cool his heels outside the theatre and afterwards i treated myself to one of old adam's rabbits and a mug of ale. it was near midnight when i was through with that and the time was ripe for my little comedy. i wended my way towards the office with gum-shoes hard on my trail.

the little building where i have my office is given over entirely to business, and is closed for the night at ten o'clock. like the other tenants, i am provided with a latchkey, in case i have to get in after hours. i am often there late, but i have never met any of the other tenants at night.

it all went through as on roller bearings. i walked down fortieth street softly whistling "mighty lak' a rose," which was my signal to the two men. they were posted in the shadow of the last doorway i had to pass before turning into my own. the block is a quiet one at that hour.

i let myself into my building and waited just inside the door. when gum-shoes came along all unsuspicious, my two friends jumped him, and holding his mouth, hustled him in after me, before he well knew what had struck him. we improvised a gag out of a handkerchief, and carried him up-stairs to my office. the fellow did not even kick.

we dumped him in a chair and turned on the lights. then we stood off, and the three of us burst out laughing simultaneously. you never saw a more comical sight than the expression of that poor bloodhound who suddenly found himself treed by his quarry! i now had no further use for the two men, so i tipped them and they left us. i locked the door after them and put the key in my pocket. i told my prisoner he might unfasten his gag, and i sat down at my desk facing him. on the desk i prominently displayed a wicked-looking automatic. i had no idea of using it, but it made a potent argument.

having laughed at the man i felt almost friendly towards him. i offered him a cigar.

he ignored it, and i put it away. "what do you mean by this outrage!" he demanded.

i laughed afresh. "come off, jack!" i said. "you must think i'm a downy chick."

at that he climbed down, and asked for the cigar quite humbly. "what do you want of me?" he muttered.

"just a little heart to heart talk," i said grinning.

"you can't make me talk," he growled.

i played with the revolver. "there's not a soul in the building but ourselves," i said offhand.

the janitor lived on the top floor, but i supposed he didn't know that.

he wilted right down. he had no nerve at all. "i ain't got nothin' against you personally," he whined. "i only got my living to make the same as yourself."

"who hired you to trail me?" i asked.

"i don't know what guy's got it in for you," he stammered. "honest, i only got my orders from the office."

"what office?"

"if you queer me there i'll lose my job. i'm a married man with two children."

"i'll tell them i put a gun to your head."

"aw, let me go. i ain't got nothin' against you."

i picked up the gun. "come across! who hired you."

"the —— detective agency," he stuttered.

he named one of the largest agencies in town. of course, i didn't know but what he was lying, but i meant to find out before i let him go. i turned a threatening scowl on him, and let my hand stray towards the gun again.

"i want the truth," i said.

he watched my hand like one hypnotised. little drops of sweat broke out on his forehead. "for god's sake, mister—!" he chattered. "for god's sake—! i'm telling you the truth. i'm only a poor operative. i don't know who wants to get you!"

"you'll have to prove it," i said.

"call up the agency," he stuttered. "they're open all night. my name is atterbury. i'm number 68."

the instrument was at my hand. i got the number, and was presently answered by a brash young voice demanding to know what i wanted.

"this is b. enderby," i said, "of number — west 40th street. have you got an operative working for you named atterbury, number 68 on your books?"

"i don't know you," returned the voice. "we don't give any information over the phone. call around and let us look you over." he hung up.

this little passage made me downright hot, and i suppose it showed in my face when i looked at the detective again.

"wh-what's the matter?" he stammered.

"they refuse to identify you."

he became still paler and clammier if that were possible. "let me—let me call them," he stammered.

i shoved the instrument towards him and waited. when he got his number he fell all over himself trying to explain. "who is this, dixon?—oh, jones. jones—for god's sake!—this is atterbury. square me, can't you? this guy enderby—i mean mr. enderby's got me sewed up in his office. he's got me covered—for god's sake, square me! or i'm a goner!"

he shoved the instrument towards me. i kept one hand on my gun, inwardly i was shaking with laughter. "this is enderby again," i said into the transmitter. "now you have the situation. what about it?"

"i know you!" cried the brash voice, now thoroughly scared. "i've got your name and number. if anything happens to our man we've got you dead to rights."

"sure," i said laughing. "you identify him, then?"

"sure, i do! and if anything happens to him——"

"that's all i wanted to know," i said. "good-bye." and this time i did the hanging up.

i got up and unlocked the door. "get!" i said to mr. atterbury. "if you take my advice, old man, you'll go into some other line."

he made grand time on the stairs.

the head of the —— detective agency was dongan, a well-known and able man, once the head of the new york detective bureau. he belonged to a school of investigation different from mine, but i respected his ability and i knew him to be above reproach. i was sure in this situation i could not do better than go direct to him. i called next morning.

"so you're in the same line?" he said looking at my card.

"that accounts for my business with you," i replied.

"what can i do for you?"

"haven't your people told you what happened in my office last night?"

"no. explain yourself."

"we are in the same line. hunting down crooks. the supposition is that we handle only clean business.

"what are you getting at?" he demanded scowling.

"i came to ask you to explain why you're tracking me in the legitimate pursuit of my business. you will agree, i think, that it looks fishy."

"i don't know anything about it," he said crossly. "i don't know you."

"i will wait while you enquire," i said mildly.

he went into his outer office. in about five minutes he returned bringing a younger man.

"well, you seem to have the goods on us, enderby," he said ruefully. "it was a small job and i was not consulted."

"our client never told us you were a detective," said the other man.

"i will make the excuses," said his employer dryly. "describe the man who engaged us to trail mr. enderby."

"gave his name as lawlor. fleshy man about forty-five years old. red face, big black or dark brown moustache. wears a cutaway coat and silk hat, very active in his movements."

"has unusually large feet," i added, "which he slaps down in a peculiar way when he walks."

"why, yes," said the young man, surprised. "you know him?"

"not so well as i would like to," i said dryly. "what address did he give you?"

"we haven't got his address?"

"where were your reports to be sent?"

the young man consulted a card. "box 229, station w, new york."

"well, that's something," i said, and rose. "when you report to him please don't mention that i've been in."

"there will be no more reports," said dongan shortly. "we'll return his money."

"if you want to make up to me for the trouble you've put me to, make him one more report," i suggested. "simply tell him that upon learning that i was a detective, mr. dongan directed that the business be refused."

"i will do that," dongan said.

"when would you ordinarily report to him?" i asked.

"this morning," the young man replied. i guessed from his foolish expression that a lurid account of the last night's proceedings had already been written.

"good!" i said. "will you please send it right off? i want to watch the letter box."

dongan agreed.

i hastened to oscar nilson's shop. an hour or so later i issued from under his hands, as perfect a specimen of the snuffy old man, the shabby genteel, as you could have found in any public reading-room from chatham square to cooper union. oscar is a wonder.

by noon i was at station w, which is away uptown on columbus avenue. peeping through the glass front of box 229 i saw that the letter from dongan had not yet arrived, at least the box was empty. a little while later i had the satisfaction of seeing the letter with the —— detective agency imprint on the corner shoot into the box.

for a weary two hours thereafter i made believe to amuse myself with the store windows of the block, up and down, both sides. since i was the very picture of a harmless old loafer, my movements attracted no notice.

at last he hove in view on foot. there was no danger of overlooking this man in a crowd. i spotted him nearly two blocks away. he came dipping down the street with his vast cutaway spread to the breeze and his feet slapping the pavements, just as the different operatives had described him. with a shape and peculiarities so marked, a crook must needs be doubly clever to keep out of the toils. i suspected i was up against a good one. there was little of the crook in his appearance. his fat, rosy face bore an expression of good will to all men.

he issued out of the post-office with the open letter in his hand, and looking not quite so good-natured. he started north again, still on foot. walking at that rate it was impossible for an apparently decrepit old man to keep up his character, so i was presently obliged to get on a car. it was an open car and i could keep track of him for several blocks. indeed, with the stops, we travelled very little faster than he did. when i got too far ahead, i got off and let him overtake me.

he turned west on one hundredth street and disappeared in a cheap apartment house, one of a long row. when i came abreast of the stoop i saw him in the vestibule, poking his fat fingers in one of the letter boxes. marking the position of the box i passed on.

returning presently, i saw that the box belonged to apartment 14. the name upon it was r. winters. i do not, however, mean to tax your brain with any more of fatty's innumerable aliases. from one of the reports i learned that his nickname was "jumbo." hereafter i shall call him that.

i loafed up and down the street debating my next move. it is a crowded street and i was not conspicuous. many an old dodderer walks up and down watching the children's games with a vague glance. i was very keen to have a look at the inside of apartment 14. thinking of irma and roland and the necessity of accomplishing something quickly, i am afraid i was not content to act with the caution that mr. dunsany and i had agreed was necessary. the most obvious suggestion was to send jumbo a fake telegram, calling him out. but in that case, when he discovered the sell he would know that i was on to him. i wanted to be sure of a case against him first.

while i was still pondering the matter, jumbo issued forth again accompanied this time by a woman of his own age and type who might have been his wife. from the style of her dress i judged that they were off on an expedition, and my heart beat high. i made sure that they were really leaving the neighbourhood, by seeing them on an amsterdam avenue car bound down-town.

returning, i rang the bell in the vestibule several times to make sure there was no one else at home. the latch never clicked. i took advantage of some one's coming out to enter, and climbed the stairs until i came to the door marked 14. i knocked without receiving any answer. the doors of these flats are childishly easy to open unless the tenant puts on a special lock. in this case it had not been done. a calling card properly manipulated did the trick. i found myself inside.

i shall not go into a lengthy description of the place because there was nothing to describe. it was an ordinary flat of four small rooms, and from the look of it might have been outfitted complete by an installment house. there was nothing to suggest the taste of the owners, at least not until you came to the kitchen. here there was an immense ice chest crammed with the choicest and most expensive eatables and drinkables. that was where their hearts lay! there was also a great store of fine liquors and cigars.

one bit of evidence rewarded my search, and only one. there were no letters, no papers, not a scrap of writing of any kind, except two lines on a piece of paper which i found under the blotting-pad of the cheap little desk by the sitting-room window. it had evidently slipped under and had been forgotten. a clever crook, of course, is no cleverer than an honest man. he is sure to make a little slip somewhere. in the two lines of writing i once more beheld the famous cryptogram. i pocketed it in high satisfaction.

i had got as far in my search as the imitation japanese vases on the mantel-piece. i was peeping inside one of them when i heard a slight sound behind me. i turned around and beheld jumbo swelling and purpling with silent rage in the doorway. i confess i was a good deal shaken by the apparition, though i managed to put down the vase with a good appearance of composure. he had stolen in as noiselessly as a cat. no matter how clear one's conscience may be, one is taken at a disadvantage discovered in the posture of a burglar.

for a while we looked at each other in silence. i cautiously reassured myself that my gun was safe in my pocket. i saw that jumbo was making a tremendous effort to hold himself in, and i realised that he had more to fear from a showdown than i had. i began to breathe more easily. i had taken off my hat for coolness, and the wig was sewn inside the band. he obviously knew me. perhaps it was as well for me. if he had supposed me an ordinary sneak thief he might have struck me down from behind with a blow of that mighty fist.

he began to swear at me thickly and softly. i remember wondering if he were going to have an apoplectic seizure, and hoping he wouldn't because it would spoil my case.

"i have you covered from my pocket," i warned him, in case his feelings got the better of his judgment.

"yah! i'm not going to touch you!" he snarled. "i don't have to."

he got his rage under partial control. "go ahead and finish looking," he said with a grim sort of humour.

"i have finished," i said.

"well, what did you find?"

"nothing."

"you're dead right you didn't find nothing," he triumphantly retorted, "because there ain't nothing to find! i'm straight, i am! i don't fear nobody. i don't know what you think you're after, but i'll tell you this, i'm sick of this spying business! i warn you to drop it, or i'll crush you as i would a fly! who are you, you—amateur! i know all about you. you ain't got nothin' behind you. you're a four-flusher, a cheap skate! keep away from me or i'll make you sorry you set up to be a sleuth!"

all this had quite the opposite effect of what was intended. as soon as jumbo began to brag and blow, something told me he was not in the least to be feared. however, for my own purposes, i assumed an air of confusion, and looked longingly toward the door behind him. he was not at all anxious to detain me. he circled away from the door, keeping his front carefully turned towards me. i in turn backed out of the door, and he slammed it shut.

as soon as i got home i made haste to translate my find. it proved to me even more important than i had hoped.

"received of jumbo six thousand cash, three thousand stock as my share of the blue pearls.

"evan."

i allowed myself a little feeling of triumph. you will remember i had learned that kenton milbourne's name was evan whittlesey. as for the mention of blue pearls, there were no others but irma's in the world. this amounted to real prima facie evidence then, the first bit i had secured.

would they find out that it was in my possession? it must have been temporarily mislaid, they were in all other things so careful. after my visit perhaps jumbo would begin to think back. i was not left long in doubt as to the matter. they struck at me with a boldness and skill i was little prepared for.