A delegation of taxpayers, thirty strong, called at the city hall that morning, and demanded an audience with the mayor. Each of them had a copy of the current issue of the _Bulletin_ in his hand, and each of them had fire in his eye. When they were ushered into the mayor’s private office they proceeded to deliver themselves of utterances so forceful and to the point that his honor squirmed in his chair as he listened. As soon as they had gone, Mayor Henkel reached for the telephone on his desk, and called up police headquarters. “Is that you, Hodgins?” he growled into the transmitter. “Yes, Mr. Mayor.” Chief Hodgins’ voice was very meek, and a trifle unsteady. He, too, had seen the _Bulletin_ that morning. “Come on over here at once!” snarled his honor. “I want to see you.” The chief lost no time in getting over to the city hall. Not that he was intensely eager for this interview, but he gathered the impression from the tone of the mayor’s voice over the wire that its owner was more than a trifle peevish, and he knew better than to keep him waiting when he was in such a mood. “I suppose you’ve seen the _Bulletin_?” snapped the mayor, as Hodgins stepped into the room. “Yes, Mr. Mayor. Of course, I don’t make a practice of readin’ that disreputable sheet, but somebody happened to hand me a copy this mornin’, and called my attention to the--ahem--dastardly outrage on the front page. Ain’t it fierce, Mr. Mayor?” His honor glared at him. “Yes, it’s fierce, all right!” he growled. “But it’s only what we’ve got to expect when we’ve got a bonehead like you at the head of the department.” The chief’s round face turned purple. “Now, see here, Mr. Mayor,” he said plaintively, “is it fair to blame me when you----” “Never mind that now,” his honor interrupted curtly. “I’ll attend to your case later on--and to all those others who have gone and got my administration in bad by getting their pictures in that confounded newspaper. I’m going to teach you all a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry, I promise you. But that’ll keep for a little while. There’s something else that I want to attend to first. Do you know who took those snapshots for the _Bulletin_?” “I am told that it was that young loafer from New York named Hawley, who----” began the chief. “So it was he, was it? I suspected as much,” Mayor Henkle muttered. “Do you know where he is at this moment, Hodgins?” “No, I don’t,” replied the chief of police, with a scowl. “But I guess I can find him, all right. I am going to court as soon as I leave here, to swear out a warrant for his arrest; and then I----” “You’re going to do nothing of the kind,” his honor broke in, with much vehemence. “You big, blundering boob, haven’t you got enough sense to realize that we can’t arrest him?”