“What is the trouble, Mr. Lydecker?” the chief asked sharply. “Another robbery?” Mr. Lydecker nodded. “I--I guess Mr. Klein will explain the whole painful matter to you. I am all upset.” The chief turned to Klein, who, in a very few words, explained how he had come upon Jarge under the window just as the necklace was being dropped. “This is the man who dropped it?” asked the chief, nodding toward Tanner. “Yes,” said Tod eagerly. “And it was caught outside the window by this man?” the chief went on, nodding toward Jarge. Klein answered in the affirmative. Then he added: “Do you happen to know of a Mr. Jarge, who is at the head of a private detective association?” “Never heard of either one of them,” was the blunt answer. “If there was such an organization in the city you would undoubtedly be aware of it?” “Certainly I would.” Klein smiled. “Mr. Lydecker has been imposed upon by a pair of clever crooks; one of them an actor, whom you have probably seen in the Hudson Stock Company; the other passing himself off as a detective. Last week they got away with Miss Lydecker’s brooch, and to-night they probably figured upon a greater haul.” “How do you happen to know so much concerning them?” demanded the chief, plainly impressed, yet at the same time perplexed. “I have been interested in the case for the past month,” Klein answered frankly. “Are you a detective?” “I am an actor, who for a certain reason found it necessary to play the rôle of a detective,” announced Klein. “And that reason?” insisted the chief. “The best reason in the world--for self-defense!” “It is rather unusual for a man in your position to assume such a task without----” “Will you allow me five minutes for a full explanation?” Klein asked. The chief agreed. “A month ago,” began Klein, “a friend of mine, Charles Delmar, was found unconscious on the roof of his boarding house, in New York City.” “I recall the case,” broke in the chief, nodding. “Previous to his assault, I was with him. I had stopped in on my way to the Albany Hotel, where I expected to get a theatrical engagement. I found my friend desperately in need of money--he had been ill and out of work for six months. In sympathy for him I forced him to take my clothes--his own were in rags--and apply for the position. I remained in his room until midnight, and as he did not return, was compelled to leave, wearing his clothes. On my way through the hall I was seen by the landlady, who, before I could explain, imagined I was a thief, and called the police. Before their arrival, however, I was aided in escaping by an unknown person, whom I learned to-night, from his own lips, to be Mr. Jarge. The next day I was astounded to hear of my friend’s death, and still more surprised to learn that he was discovered on the roof of the house, clad in a suit of gray clothes.” “What was so surprising about that?”