"This paper you see is a telegraphic warrant from New York for Hatch's arrest. I communicated with the New York authorities as soon as my detectives found that he was in the city and told me he was wanted in the East. They have trailed him day and night. The place where he is living is surrounded now by my men and deputy sheriffs who are waiting for me before making the raid and arresting him. Now, if you're ready, we'll go and you can ask me any questions you want on the way." He led them to an automobile parked in front of the office building. A liveried chauffeur sat at the wheel. John saw it was the machine that Consuello had said had been placed at her disposal by "a friend." He wondered why she never explained to him that it was Gibson's car. Gibson took the seat beside the chauffeur, while John, Brennan and Benton took the tonneau seats. The machine whirled away from the curb. "Any questions?" asked Gibson over his shoulder. "You've told us everything we need to know now," replied Brennan. As Gibson turned back to face the road before them John glanced toward Brennan interrogatively. Brennan shook his head doubtfully as if he was puzzled by this new move by the commissioner. "I can't figure it out--yet," he whispered. In twenty minutes, at Gibson's order, the chauffeur stopped the automobile at a corner in West Eleventh street. "We'll stop here and walk the rest of the way, it's only half a block," explained the commissioner. "To drive up to the house would give them warning." "Big Jim's" house was in the middle of the block. It was square, of two stories and set well back from the street. The blinds were down in all of the windows and it had a deserted appearance. Out of range of sight from any of the windows Gibson met a group of deputy sheriffs and his private detectives, one of whom stepped forward to address him. "He's in there, all right," the detective said. "We trailed him in last night and he hasn't put his nose out of doors since. What are your orders, Mr. Commissioner?" "Who has the search warrant?" Gibson asked. "I have it," replied one of the deputy sheriffs. "I figured we might have to go in after him." "Is the back of the house guarded?" Gibson demanded. "Four men are there and four others posted at the sides," he was told. "Good! Let's go then; I'll lead the way," said Gibson. He strode quickly toward the house and up the walk to the front door, followed by the detectives, the deputies, Brennan, John and the camera man. John had a peculiar sinking feeling as he realized what open targets they were as they approached the house if "Big Jim" opened fire on them from behind the blind of one of the windows facing the street. Gibson rapped sharply on the door and they waited tensely for a response. The officers' right hands were on the handles of their automatics and revolvers. There was no response to Gibson's rap. He clenched his fist and hammered loudly on the solid panel of the door. Again no response.