“That is too bad. I should have liked to ask them a few questions.” Kenyon arose and said: “Is it permissible for you to tell me the name of the person who summoned them to New York?” “It is not. That is a point upon which the police left special instructions.” “Ah, pardon me! And thank you for what you have already told us. Good-night.” Once again they were upon the street, walking along in silence, hands stuffed into overcoat pockets and heads bent in deep thought. After a space Kenyon said: “Well, Garry, my son, we don’t seem to have come at anything of value, as yet, eh?” “Rather, we have gone deeper into the tangle,” answered Webster. Then he laughed in a sudden fit of boyish glee and continued: “But, I say, it’s more fun than going a-fishing, isn’t it? I’d like to work at a thing like this as a regular job. It’s got it all over hardware for real interest.” “It seems to me that it’s going to be my occupation, for a time, at least,” said Kenyon, a certain grimness in his tone. “The matter concerns me, and if it’s possible to get to the bottom of it, I’m going to do it.” “Right,” agreed Webster. “It’s your place to do that very thing.” They walked back to Webster’s hotel, in silence for the most part; when they arrived Kenyon immediately took up a telephone directory and began fluttering over its leaves. “It’s just possible that the manager of Moritze & Co.’s New York branch may have a ’phone connection at his home and I may catch him there,” explained he to Webster. “Oh, yes, here it is. His name is Leventhal. I trust he is a snugly married man and is at home just now.” After a few moments waiting he got the number asked for. “I want to speak to Mr. Leventhal,” said Kenyon. “This is Mr. Leventhal.” “Manager for Moritze & Co.?” “The same.” “I have just received a check upon your house for a considerable sum, and I’d like to make some inquiries about the person who drew it.” “I never transact business after business hours,” said Leventhal, decidedly. “But this is a matter of importance. I’d like you to tell me what you can about Hong Yo, who I think is known to you.” There was a sharp exclamation at the other end of the wire; after a short pause there came the answer in the same cold tone. “We never discuss our depositors with strangers--or anyone else, for that matter. If you have a check signed by Hong Yo it will be honored instantly, no matter what the sum. Good-night.” “One moment,” cried Kenyon, hastily. But it was too late; the other had already rung off. “I expected that,” remarked Webster. “Bank people are rather close mouthed as a rule. I don’t think you’ll learn much from that source.” “It would seem not.”