"Whew!" he exclaimed, leaning back in his chair and staring at Lawrence. "If I didn’t know you better, old boy, I’d say you’d been hitting the pipe. Shadowed, kidnaped, mistaken for another man, and—— Say! Did you find out what that woman’s name was?" "I did; but it wouldn’t be quite right to mention it, would it? I only brought her in because it bore on the case." "Hum! I suppose you’re right. Awkward fix for a woman to be in, ain’t it? I reckon she and this double of yours must have known each other pretty well." "I judged so," Barry returned grimly. "Do you know, Jock, I made the mistake of my life in giving that detective the slip. If I’d only stayed quietly there in that empty house until his employers showed up, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that by this time I’d be wise to the whole shooting match." Hamersley nodded. "No doubt," he agreed. "Still, a fellow can’t always plan so far ahead. When a thug holds you up with a gun and carries you off that way, the natural thing is to go him one better, and make a sneak. Jove! I wish I’d been along. That chase over the roofs must have been some time, all right." "It wasn’t quite so entertaining while it was happening," Barry said. "You could have taken my place, and welcome, if you’d been around." "Why don’t you turn the tables on this gang of snoopers?" inquired Hamersley suddenly. Barry started slightly. "You mean that——" "Turn around and follow them. Get after that duck with the beard. Strikes me he’s the head one of the push. Get him in a corner and make him come over with the information. Two can play at the game, can’t they?" "By Jove!" Lawrence exclaimed jubilantly. "I believe you’re right, Jock. That’s a whopping good idea of yours, old fellow!" "Didn’t expect anything but good ones from me, I hope?" Hamersley returned. "That’s my specialty, you know." Filled with enthusiasm over the notion, they made haste to leave the hotel. There seemed no time like the present for starting in, so they leisurely paused on the sidewalk to give any spies who were about ample opportunity to get on the job; then, turning eastward, sauntered along the south side of Forty-second Street. Unfortunately, the scheme did not seem to pan out as they expected. Though they kept the sharpest sort of a lookout around them, suddenly turning to glance into shop windows, whirling about as if to retrace their steps, and taking the most roundabout route possible to the Yale Club, not a suspicious pedestrian or taxi did they see. "Too big a crowd, I reckon," Hamersley sighed as they paused before the building on Forty-fourth Street. "We’d better take dinner here and start out afterward when the streets aren’t so full." "I can’t dine with you, Jock," Barry said regretfully. "I’ve got a date." "Part of the game you couldn’t tell me about, I’ll bet," the Yale man returned shrewdly. "Well, meet me here at eight, then."