When detective Burke appeared he was jubilant. He had made a find. Somebody at the hotel had lost a cuff-link. To find it the trash barrel into which all waste paper baskets had been emptied was over-hauled. Burke had witnessed the search. A scrap of paper attracted attention and was examined. He had picked it up thinking it was the report of a private operative and was amazed to find it pertained to the Wayne affair. He produced the paper and handed it to his Chief. "But who was it sent to? Who threw it in the trash barrel?" the latter asked. That was a mystery. "Go back to the hotel," he told the detective, "and pump every employee on the premises. Get anything you can about a dark man with a nasty smile, and a chunky fellow wearing a flashy pin and a plaid suit." He put the paper in his pocket. "Now," he remarked to those who were to accompany him on the trip through the farming district, "when the letter comes demanding ransom, we'll compare it with this handwriting first, and then with the register at the hotel." True to the Chief's prophecy, the letter demanding ransom reached Harris Wayne with his morning's mail. He ordered his car and drove at once to the Chief's office. There, after a consultation he was advised against meeting the ransom terms. "We've got information now that will enable us to run down the kidnappers within a few hours," declared the Chief. "You wait here while I send this letter over to Burke to check it up with handwriting on the hotel register." For the letter that threatened the life of little Doris Wayne unless the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars was paid to the kidnappers at the river pier near the cross-roads before noon that following day, was not penned by the same hand as that which wrote the report found in the wastebasket. It was soon discovered, however, that the writing corresponded in some respects with that of someone who had registered at the Mansion House as "W. J. Bailey, Phila." And Mr. Bailey was said to have a very peculiar smile--but he was not smooth faced. He wore a mustache. And he had already checked out. "You may say," said the Chief, speaking to the newspaper men who begged him for information, "that our entire force is at work on the case and we expect to round up the criminals in a few hours." After the reporters were gone he summoned his secretary. "Get hold of Carey and Wright," he snapped. "Tell them to slip the Mary Ann out quietly and keep watch of any suspicious looking or acting craft in the neighborhood of Simpson's pier by the cross-roads. Now, Mr. Wayne," he added, "if you care to come with us, we're going to take a little cross-country run and interview our farmer friends." "Do you think we'll gain anything by going?" asked Wayne. "With so much information right at hand it seems like a waste of time to be driving aimlessly about the country. I feel as if I must be doing something drastic and violent toward locating my baby."