"I suppose you'll want me to go back with you," Hatch said to Gibson after Benton had made his final flashlight picture of them. "As soon as the search is completed," assented the commissioner. "Tell me, Hatch, what about this New York job?" "Big Jim" drew a cigar from his vest pocket, clipped off the end of it with a snap of his teeth and lighted it with a match. He puffed at the cigar, looked at it critically and smiled before he answered. "You can speak about that to my lawyer," he said. In pairs the deputies and detectives returned from their search of the house empty-handed. "Nothing worth taking," they reported. They prepared to leave, Hatch donned a suit coat and put on his hat. As they started toward the door John was in the rear. He was about to step over the threshold to join the others outside when a hand touched his arm. He turned and faced a girl, a very pretty girl, he thought, with large blue eyes, golden hair and petite figure. "Are you a reporter?" the girl asked. "Yes," he replied, mystified. "Then please come back here, tonight, I have something to tell you." The door closed and he was outside again. * * * * * It was not until after Hatch had been lodged in the county jail to await the arrival of officers from New York and Brennan had written the story of Gibson's arrest of the swindler that John revealed that the girl, whom he presumed was Mrs. Hatch, had asked him to return to the house that night. The arrest of "Big Jim" was the outstanding local news story of the day. Gibson issued another statement in which he emphasized that Hatch was one of "Gink" Cummings' men, who completely escaped the notice of Chief Sweeney's "inefficient" detectives. When Brennan had handed to P. Q. the last sheet of his story of Hatch's arrest John told him how the girl had stopped him at the door and asked him to return. "Great!" exclaimed Brennan. "I can't figure out Gibson's game in arresting 'Big Jim.' She'll probably be able to give us the tip." "I wonder what she wants to tell me," said John. "Tell US, you mean," Brennan amended. "You don't think you're not going to take me along with you, do you?" A few minutes after 8 o'clock that evening John and Brennan returned to the scene of their adventure of the afternoon. John rapped on the door and the girl spoke to them without opening it. "Who is it, please?" she asked. "It's the reporter you spoke to this afternoon," John said, and the door swung open. The girl stood with her hand on the knob. She glanced inquiringly toward Brennan. "My partner," John explained. "Come in," she invited, with a friendly smile. She waited until they had entered and then closed the door behind them, locking it carefully. Without speaking she led them into a sitting room, artistically furnished, lighted only by a rose-shaded table lamp. She motioned them to a deep-cushioned davenport and seated herself in a chair under the light from the lamp.