"What an extraordinary tale," he commented as she finished. "I wish I could help you out, I'm sure. Now, no receipt of ours would be of importance in and of itself. It must have had a memorandum scribbled on it, or something of that sort." "Yes," agreed Iris, thoughtfully, "that must be it. In that case the murderer wanted it because it told where the jewels are hidden." "And he has already secured them! Oh, no!" Mr. Reed's interest was so sincere that Iris told him a little more. She told him of the pin, and of her being kidnapped in an attempt to get it. "You are in danger," Reed said, warningly. "Until they get what they want you will continue to be molested. It isn't the pin--that's too absurd! But they're after something that has to do with the secret of the hiding place of those jewels. On that you may depend." "But couldn't the pin have some bearing on that?" "I can't imagine any way that it could. The idea of its being made of radium is ridiculous. The idea of its being a weight or a measure is silly, too; and how else could it be indicative? No, the pin part of the performance is a ruse, the thieves are after something else. If they stole the receipt in question, it was, as I said, because there were instructions on it. Your man Pollock is doubtless the head of the gang. He's no important collector, or I should know of him. And probably his whole collection story was a falsehood. He read of the pin in the paper and used that to distract your mind from what he really was after." "Very likely," and Iris sighed. "What would you advise me to do?" "It's too big a case for a layman's advice, and, pardon me, too big a case for a young girl to manage." "Oh, I know that. I've a very good lawyer, and the police are at work, but nobody seems able to accomplish anything." "I hope and trust somebody will," said Reed, heartily; "that lot of jewels is too big a loot for crooks to get hold of! I'd be sorry indeed to learn they have done so!" Iris went away, and as her work in Chicago was done, she decided to start at once for home. Entering the hotel, she found a telegram from Lucille Darrel. It read: "Come home at once. I've engaged F. S. and he will arrive to-morrow." Now, F. S. meant the great detective, Fleming Stone. CHAPTER XIII FLEMING STONE COMES Fleming Stone carried his years lightly. Except for the slight graying at his temples, no one would think that he had arrived, as he had, at the years that are called middle-aged. But an especially interesting problem so stirred his enthusiasm and roused his energies that he grew young again, and his dark eyes fairly scintillated with eagerness and power. "Tell me everything," he repeated, even after he had heard all the details over and over again. "Omit nothing--no tiniest point. It all helps." They sat in the living room at Pellbrook, Miss Darrel and Iris being present, also Hughes and Lawyer Chapin.