“When shall I do it?” asked Larry. “Let me see,” mused Mr. Newton. “I’ll have to lay my plans carefully. I guess to-morrow night would be a good time. We’ll write another personal, and put it in the paper to-morrow, telling the gang the document will be in the cigar store.” “Then when they come to get it we’ll have a policeman on hand, and arrest whoever comes for it,” said Larry. “That’s the idea, isn’t it?” “Not exactly.” “I would think that was the thing to do.” “You don’t know these chaps, Larry. If we arranged to have a detective on guard, ready to grab whoever claimed the paper, the gang would learn of it in some way, and they would never come near the place. We will have to be foxier than that. We’ll have to do the watching ourselves, or rather I will. I believe none of the gang knows me. I’ll arrange to be in the cigar store to-morrow night, and I’ll follow whoever calls for the paper.” So it was arranged. The document, unsigned, was placed in the envelope which the men behind the land plot had sent to Larry. He took it to the cigar store. The proprietor of the place kept a sort of private post-office, and had a number of boxes in which he kept mail or other things for his customers who preferred doing business that way rather than through the government agency. Larry handed the envelope to the man. The young reporter wanted to ask who Mr. Hand was, and where he lived, but he refrained, for he thought the cigar man would probably refuse to answer, or else say he did not know. That evening Mr. Newton stopped in the store to get a cigar. He thought the proprietor eyed him rather sharply, but Mr. Newton was used to meeting all sorts of persons in his capacity as a reporter, and did not mind being stared at. He tried to engage the proprietor in conversation, but the cigar dealer was not in a very pleasant mood, and answered shortly. “I promised a friend I would meet him here this evening,” said the reporter. “Have you any objections to me waiting in your store?” “Well, I don’t like people hanging around,” was the rather ungracious answer. “This place is small, and I need all the room there is to do business.” “My friend might want to buy a box of cigars,” said Mr. Newton. “Oh, of course, if he’s coming here in the way of trade,” said the cigar man, “I’ve no objections to your waiting, but as a general thing I don’t like it.” He tried to be polite, but it was hard work. He even got a chair for Mr. Newton to sit on, but all the time the cigar man seemed nervous and ill at ease. He kept watching the door, as though he expected someone to come in who would object to the reporter’s presence. An hour passed, and there was no sign of the blue-handed man or any messenger from him. Several persons called, and got letters or packages from the boxes, but the document which Larry had placed in the envelope in accordance with the instructions contained in the personal, was not disturbed.