Luck attended him until he reached the last morning newspaper on the list. Here he was obliged to proceed to the city room--risky business. A queer advertisement coming into the city room late at night was always pried into, as he knew from experience. Still, he felt that he ought not to miss any chance to reach Karlov. He explained his business to the sleepy gate boy, who carried the advertisement and the cash to the night city editor's desk. Ordinarily the night city editor would have returned the advertisement with the crisp information that he had no authority to accept advertisements. But the “drums of jeopardy” caught his attention; and he sent a keen glance across the busy room to the rail where Cutty stood, perhaps conspicuously. “Humph!” He called to one of the reporters. “This looks like a story. I'll run it. Follow that guy in the overalls and see what's in it.” Cutty appreciated the interlude for what it was worth. Someone was going to follow him. When the gate boy returned to notify him that the advertisement had been accepted, Cutty went down to the street. “Hey, there; just a moment!” hailed the reporter. “I want a word with you about that advertisement.” Cutty came to a standstill. “I paid for it, didn't I?” “Sure. But what's this about the drums of jeopardy?” “Two great emeralds I'm hunting for,” explained Cutty, recalling the man who stood on London Bridge and peddled sovereigns at two bits each, and no buyer. “Can it! Can it!” jeered the reporter. “Be a good sport and give us the tip. Strike call among the city engineers?” “I'm telling you.” “Like Mike you are!” “All right. It's the word to tie up the surface lines, like Newark, if you want to know. Now, get t' hell out o' here before I hand you one on the jaw!” The reporter backed away. “Is that on the level?” “Call up the barns and find out. They'll tell you what's on. And listen, if you follow me, I'll break your head. On your way!” The reporter dashed for the elevator--and back to the doorway in time to see Cutty legging it for the Subway. As he was a reporter of the first class he managed to catch the same express uptown. On the way uptown Cutty considered that he had accomplished a shrewd bit of work. Karlov or one of his agents would certainly see that advertisement; and even if Karlov suspected a Federal trap he would find some means of communicating with the issuer of the advertisement. The thought of Kitty returned. What the dickens would she say--how would she act--when she learned who this Hawksley was? He fervently hoped that she had never read “Thaddeus of Warsaw.” There would be all the difference in the world between an elegant refugee Pole and a derelict of the Russian autocracy. Perhaps the best course to pursue would be to say nothing at all to her about the amazing discovery. Upon leaving Elevator Four Cutty said: “Bob, I've been followed by a sharp reporter. Sheer him off with any tale you please, and go home. Goodnight.”