“Didn’t I explain that she carries yacht papers, and isn’t even suspected by a soul?” “But you seem to know all about her, and I can’t see----” “I agree with you heartily, my boy. You certainly can’t.” What kept my hands off of him, I don’t understand, unless it was the reverence I had come to have at his very name as handled among us cubs. And whatever retort I might have mustered was broken short by his jumping off the car suddenly. “This way,” said he, leading a brisk pace that kept my shorter legs almost trotting. After three blocks of silence, which our speed necessitated, he whirled sharply upon me. We stood on the sidewalk before police headquarters. “What kind of a gun do you carry?” he barked out. “Automatic,” I replied, tapping my chest nearly under my left arm where I favor carrying a firearm. “Know how to use it?” “Yes,” said I. My answer must have carried conviction. “Then I’ll keep you in on the game a bit longer,” he decided, talking more to himself than to me. “I wouldn’t have time now to acquaint a new man with the facts sufficiently. Come on in.” I followed him up the stoop, through the door, and across the hall. I recognized the man at the desk. It was Sergeant Hallins, a man who had once been with Chief Garth. “Why, hello, Grey!” cried the sergeant heartily, thus proving that the recognition was mutual. I was distinctly pleased at his genial greeting for two reasons. For one thing, I had a very favorable impression of him from my short, former acquaintance; but, at this moment, it suited me nicely enough thus to prove to Pawlinson that I was not exactly a nonentity. But Pawlinson, for some reason, did not appear at all to like the fact that we knew each other; though it was apparently not because Hallins failed, in turn, to recognize him. “Sergeant Hallins,” said he, “you got my wire from New York yesterday at this office?” For a moment Hallins looked from him to me, and back again, until finally I tumbled to the fact that this was the first time they had met each other. “Mr. Pawlinson,” said I, by way of introduction. “You gentlemen must pardon me, for, of course, I thought that you knew each other.” Hallins shot Pawlinson another swift glance, a puzzled one, before he replied: “You mean the wire about the schooner, Mr. Pawlinson?” “Naturally; since it was the only one I sent,” drawled the Washington detective in that sarcasm which I now saw was not for me alone. “Did she arrive in Portland Harbor to-day?” “Yes,” replied Sergeant Hallins. “The schooner _Ruby Light_ arrived here shortly after dawn, and dropped her hook off Orr’s Island, as usual.” There was a distinct hesitancy, coupled to what was almost bewilderment, in Hallins’ tone. “And you have kept note of her movements to-day?” I could see the imperiousness of the tone grated upon Hallins as much as it had upon me; but he replied civilly enough: