From behind him somewhere in Wildwood Zoo, a sharp cry of alarm went up. His theft had been detected. In five minutes the roads to town would be blocked by police patrols. Jim's forehead wrinkled into tight furrows. The coupe was doing eighty-five. With one hand he reached down and petted the fox's smooth head. "You snap at me," he warned, "and I'll send you back to your cage." A warm tongue touched his hand softly. The police sirens were dying now, and he breathed with relief as they passed the city limits and swept into heavy traffic. Slowing down a little, his forehead smoothed out and a sly smile swept across his face. Fifteen minutes later Drake eased the car into the alley behind the apartment hotel. There was no one on duty at the freight elevator. With the silver fox in his arms Drake made a hurried entrance and shortly they reached the private floor of his apartment. He placed the animal carefully on the floor and with his key opened the door. Puffy Adams was stretched across the bed. His eyes opened with a jerk at the sight of Jim's passenger, and he drew himself toward the safety of the far end of the bed. "Well," Puffy said hesitantly. "If you go for this kind 'a thing it's okay with me. Just keep that four-legged Dracula away from me. No more blood-letting this week, please." Jim ignored him. He locked the door swiftly and turned on the fox. "You can come out now," he said. "It's safe here." * * * * * The animal crossed the thick rug with a bound, pounced to the bed with a stealthy spring and curled into a little ball of fur. Its eyes closed and it was motionless. "I'll be damned." Drake slouched down in the leather chair beside the cocktail table and dragged out a much smoked pipe. "That's gratitude for you." Puffy gazed with growing respect and admiration for the faults of the insane. "I suppose," he suggested, "that you expected that pint-sized bundle of fur to kick one foot, toss off her coat and do a snake dance right here in the bedroom?" Drake sat motionless. Smoke drifted in lazy circles around his head. "What about the diamonds?" he asked. "Get any dope?" Adams edged carefully away from the bed and glided safely away from the sleeping fox. He dipped a slip of paper from his wrinkled pocket and started to read mechanically. "Largest diamond came from Africa--weight one pound and a quarter--didn't get the name of it, because I couldn't pronounce it anyhow." He looked up anxiously. "Is that enough?" Jim put the pipe away carefully. "For brevity," he admitted. "It's perfect. But it will do." "So?" "From what I saw of that diamond last night," Drake continued, "it must have weighed at least two pounds. Perfectly cut and yet by no one in this country. Puffy, we've a perfectly swell mystery on our hands." "And the fox?" Adams added, with a suspicious look at the drowsy animal on the bed. "What in hell's bells made you bring it here?" "George Lardner," Drake said slowly.