Willie Whitla had returned to his father on Monday night. Tuesday evening, about twenty-two hours after the boy had made his dramatic entry into the Hollenden, the detectives went through a three-story flat building at 2022 Prospect Avenue and found that a couple answering the general descriptions furnished by Willie Whitla and Mrs. Hendricks had rented a furnished apartment there on the night following the kidnapping and had departed only a few hours ahead of the detectives. They had conducted themselves very quietly while in the place, and the woman who had sublet the rooms to them was not even sure there had been a child with them. Willie Whitla afterward identified this place as the scene of his captivity. The discovery of this apartment might have been less significant for the moment, had the building not been but a few squares from the point at which Willie had been put aboard the street car for his trip to join his father. As it was, the detectives felt they were hot on the trail. Reserves were rushed to that part of town, patrolmen were not relieved at the end of their tours of duty, and the extra men were stationed at the exits from the city, with instructions to stop and question all suspicious persons. The pack was in full cry, but the quarry was by no means in sight. At this tense and climactic moment of the drama far broader forces than the police were thrown upon the stage. The governor of Pennsylvania signed a proclamation in the course of the afternoon, offering to continue the reward of fifteen thousand dollars which had been posted by the State for the recovery of the boy and the arrest and conviction of his abductors. Since the boy had been returned, the money was to go to those who brought his kidnappers to justice. Accordingly, the people of several States were watching with no perfunctory alertness. High hopes of immediate capture were thus based on more than one consideration; but the night was aging without result. At a few minutes past nine o’clock a man and woman of the most inconspicuous kind entered the saloon of Patrick O’Reilly on Ontario Street, Cleveland, sat down at a table in the rear room, and ordered drink. The liquor was served, and the man offered a new five-dollar bill in payment. He immediately reordered, telling the proprietor to include the other patrons then in the place. Again he offered a new bill of the same denomination, and once again he commanded that all present accept his hospitality. Both the man and the woman drank rapidly and heavily, quickly showing the effects of the liquor and becoming more and more loquacious, spendthrift and effusive. There was, of course, nothing extraordinary in such conduct. Men came in often enough who drank heavily, spent freely, and insisted on “buying for the house.” But it was a little unusual for a man to let go of thirty dollars in little more than an hour, and it was still more unusual for a customer to peel off one new five-dollar note after the other.