Detective Mitchell was actively following his course toward the end of November, 1920, eleven months after the flight of Doughty, when a telegram arrived at police headquarters in Toronto from Edward Fortune, a constable of Oregon City, Oregon, a small town far out near the Pacific. Once more the weary detective took a train West, arriving in Oregon City on the evening of November 22. Constable Fortune met the Canadian officer at the train and told him his story. He had seen one of the circulars a few months earlier and had carried the images of Small and Doughty in his mind. One day he had observed a strange laborer working in a local paper mill, and he had been struck by his likeness to Doughty. The man had been there for some time and risen from the meanest work to the position of foreman in one of the shops. Fortune dared not approach the suspect even indirectly, and he failed on various occasions to get a view of the worker without his hat on. Because the picture on the circular showed Doughty bare-headed, the constable had been forced to wait until the suspected man inadvertently removed his hat. Then Fortune had sent his telegram. Detective Mitchell listened patiently and dubiously. He had made a hundred trips of the same sort, he said. Probably there was another mistake. But Constable Fortune seemed certain of his game, and he was right. Shortly after dusk the local officer led the detective to a modest house, where some of the mill workers boarded. They entered, and Mitchell was immediately confronted with Doughty, whom he had known intimately in Toronto. “Jack!” said the officer, almost as much surprised as the fugitive. “How could you do it?” In this undramatic fashion one part of the great quest came to an end. Doughty submitted quietly to arrest and gave the officer a voluntary statement. He admitted without reservation that he had taken Canadian Victory bonds to a total of one hundred and five thousand dollars from Small’s vault, but insisted that this had been done after the millionaire had disappeared. He denied absolutely and firmly any knowledge of Small’s whereabouts; pleaded that he had never had any knowledge of or part in a kidnapping plot, and he insisted that he had not seen Small nor heard from him since half past five on the evening of the disappearance. To this account he adhered doggedly and unswervingly. Doughty was returned to Toronto on November 29, and the next day he retrieved the stolen bonds from the attic of his sister’s house, where he had made his home with his two small sons, since the death of his wife several years before.