"It might not prove a bad idea," he said at length. "The time is short, now; and if the boy up at Craddock's rallies enough to talk and says anything worth while we'd be able to round up the whole bunch just as they're getting ready to make the transfer and receive the ransom." [Illustration: _Scene from Mary Pickford's Photoplay_. _Sparrow_. "WE SHALL GA-A-THER AT THE RIV-VER."] He reached for the telephone. "Herald office," he said, shortly. "Mr. Gavin." When the connection was given he wasted no words nor time. "Hello, Jimmie," he exclaimed, in greeting the editor. "This is Adams, over at Headquarters. Paper gone to press yet?--Well, hold it a minute. I've got to get a notice in.--No, don't change your make-up. Just run a big head across the front page. It'll sell the paper. Here it is: 'Wayne agrees to meet kidnapper's terms.' That's all, now. Not another word or you'll queer the whole deal. As soon as the story is ready I'll give it to you and you can get out an extra. Make a display of that, now, and rush the paper onto the streets, will you? All right. Thanks. Good-by." He hung up the receiver and turned to Wayne. "Now, that's done," he said. "As soon as the bank's open you can go over and draw the money. Meanwhile, pull up a chair and have a cup of coffee. There's plenty here, and it's good." He got another cup out of a locker and poured some of the coffee for Wayne who, now that the agreement to pay the ransom was made, found himself able to relax sufficiently to drink it. Had he known that his little daughter was at that moment perched on the limb of a tree, in the depth of a swamp, absorbed in the enjoyment of a drink of milk, served in a bottle that had once contained corn liquor while her companions breakfasted on raw potatoes, his own enjoyment of the coffee would have been sadly marred. Within an hour the Herald's big headline was being shouted on the streets by the newsboys. And within half an hour thereafter the same car that had waited near the Help-U Gas Station on the night of the kidnapping was dashing along the old pike in the direction of the private thoroughfare which led to the Grimes estate. Bill Swazey was at the wheel. Bailey sat beside him. "Boat ready?" asked the latter. "Fine shape," returned Swazey. "If Grimes fetches the kid quick we'll be able to get there and have the engine going nicely before Wayne's due at the pier," said Bailey. "I got word to Louis. He's already there," Swazey announced.