When I got down on the pavement Willitts was walking along the cross street back toward Sixth Avenue. Midway down the block, he stopped and disappeared through a doorway. I was quite a piece behind him and when I saw him fade out of sight I forgot everything and ran. At the door I came up short, panting and purple in the face—the place was a restaurant. It had a large plate glass window with white letters on it and a man making pancakes where he’d show plainest. Inside I could see Willitts seating himself at a littered up table. "Lunch!" I said to myself. "He’s going to eat, the cool devil. Now’s my chance!" Almost directly opposite was a drug store with telephone booths close to the window. I could get a message to the office, and if I caught the chief or Mr. George, I could have a man up in twenty minutes. If they weren’t there I’d try headquarters, but I was afraid of that—they’d ask questions, waste time, want to know who I was and what it was all about. If only Willitts was hungry, if he’d only eat enough to last till I got some one, if he’d only order pancakes. As I waited for the connection I found myself sort of praying "Pancakes—make him order pancakes. They’re made in the window and they take quite a while. _Please_ make him eat pancakes!" Right in the midst of my prayer came the voice of Miss Quinn, the switchboard girl in the office, and for me it was: "Quick, Miss Quinn—it’s Mrs. Babbitts. Is Mr. Whitney or Mr. George there? Give ’em to me—on the jump—if they are." She didn’t waste a word, and in a minute Mr. George’s voice came sharp: "Hello, who is it?" "Molly, Mr. George. And I’ve got Willitts—and I’ve got enough on him to know he’s the thief—I can’t tell you now but—" He cut in with: "I know, I know, Ferguson’s told us. O’Malley’s here now going to Council Oaks for him." I almost screamed: "Send him _here_. Willitts is off; he’s left and I’ve trailed him. I’m waiting at the door and he’s inside." "Inside _what_, where the devil are you?" I gave him the directions and then: "It’s a restaurant; he’s eating. But it may only be a doughnut and a glass of milk. If it’s pancakes we’re safe, but a man lighting out with a fortune in a handbag don’t generally want anything so filling. I’ll follow him until I drop, but I don’t want to travel round with a jewel thief unless I have to." "I’ll send O’Malley now. You stay right there and if Willitts finishes before he comes, hold him any way you can. Get a cop. I’ll ’phone to headquarters for a warrant. So long." Of course I thought of the cop, but spying out from the doorway, there wasn’t one in sight. And by this time I was considerably worked up, afraid to move in any direction, afraid to take my eyes from the restaurant entrance. I pulled up one of the chairs they have for people getting prescriptions filled, and sat down by the doorway, watching the place opposite, like a cat camped in front of a mouse hole.