Just how close he was to becoming a detective Jimmy did not know. A few moments later he left the Club and betook himself to the "L" station for the train that would take him back to his office. Jimmy was followed into the car by a well-dressed, dark man of somewhat foreign appearance who carried a brown portfolio. There was nothing about him to arouse interest, but because he was the only other person in the car Jimmy stared at him with a bored curiosity which would have been disconcerting had the object of it not been in a somewhat drowsy state. Jimmy watched his head nod, fall forward on his chest, and jerked back only to allow it to go through the same performance again. It was very interesting to Jimmy, and he was somewhat sorry when the man jumped to his feet in confusion as the guard called a station and hurried out to the platform. As the train started Jimmy noticed the brown portfolio lying on the seat where the man had left it. He caught it up and thrust his head out of the window. "Hey, hey, mister! You left your valise!" Portfolios, valises--they were all the same to Jimmy, the untravelled. But the "L" train was pulling out. Behind, on the platform Jimmy could see the man waving his arms and gesticulating wildly. "Well you shouldn't have left it," Jimmy commented philosophically to no one in particular, and immediately unbuckled the strap that held the case closed. He glanced inside. For a moment disappointment was written on his features, and then his eyes widened. "Papers! German papers! Gosh I wonder if he's a spy!" Jimmy hesitated and hurried out of the car. He was strangely deaf to the shouts of the station guard, as he rushed down the elevator steps, the newsdealer who endeavored to stop him at the guard's earnest entreaties, enforced profanities, presented no obstacle at all. A policeman, seeing the commotion, did his best to slacken the pace Jimmy had set for himself but could do nothing but follow the nimble-footed messenger. Fifteen minutes later Jimmy dashed past Pat Hennessy at the door of the Criminology Club and threw himself, panting and wild-eyed at Harrison Grant. "Mr. Grant!" he gasped. "Here's a whole valise full of German spies--I mean German papers." And then he turned with a look of despair as the cumbersome form of his pursuer darkened the door. At the sight of Jimmy the ample-proportioned guardian of the law stepped forward to lay a heavy hand upon him, but Harrison Grant stopped him quietly. "Just a minute, here, Tom. The boy's all right. I'll look after him. I think he's got something here we really want. In any event I'll take care of the bag, whatever it is--and if the boy is wrong I'll see that it gets back to its owner." The policeman pondered dubiously. "Well," he said finally, "I seen the kid running with this brown thing and a man chasing him, and I naturally thought something was wrong. But I'll leave him with you if you say so, Mr. Grant." Grant nodded and he left the room.