"Sure!" The young man reached across the littered desk and drew a slip of paper toward him. "I thought you might want to know, so I looked it up when I first came in. It was phoned in from the Merton House at six-five. Party by the name of Brown." "Much obliged," Barry remarked thoughtfully. "I’ll see what I can get out of the boy." As he turned toward the youngster, he saw the latter’s eyes drop and his heels begin to kick automatically against the rungs of the wooden bench. "Just a little too careless to be natural," Barry reflected. "Looks to me as if you’d been well coached, my son." The boy did not look at him squarely as Lawrence took his seat on the bench beside him; but the man caught a flashing glint from the blue eyes which told him that his young neighbor was on the alert. For a second Barry sat silent. Then, turning suddenly toward the youngster, he said quietly: "I’m in trouble, Jimmy, and I want you to help me." *CHAPTER XXXVII.* *TWO SHEETS OF PAPER.* There was no reply in words, but the boy moved uneasily and twisted one foot around the bench leg. "You went to the Merton House a little after six to-night," Lawrence went on, in the same low, even voice, "and got a letter there, which you took to Mrs. Ogden Wilmerding on Fifth Avenue. Do you remember anything about the man who gave it to you?" The boy squirmed a little, and seemed intent on poking a minute pebble into a crack in the floor. "Nothin’ special," he mumbled at last. Barry laughed. "Oh, come now!" he returned. "You must remember what he looked like." The youngster thrust both chapped and freckled hands deep into the pockets of his trousers, and scowled. "Well," he muttered slowly, his eyes still on the floor, "he was sort o’ short, an’ fat, an’—an’ had a—a squint in one eye. His hair was—light. That’s all I know about him." For a moment Barry sat regarding the small face screwed up into a fearsome scowl, noted the twitching eyebrows, and the clenched fists visible through the cloth of the blue trousers. Then he shook his head. "I’m afraid, Jimmy," he murmured, "that your bump of observation isn’t very well developed. Are you sure the man wasn’t tall and slim and dark, and rather good looking?" The red-headed youngster gasped, and, flinging back his head, met Lawrence’s eyes squarely for the first time. "How in blazes did you——" he stammered; and then broke off abruptly, a vivid flush staining his freckled face.