"That," said Forrester, "is a question I have not entirely settled as yet. As you know, I went to the detective bureau this afternoon." "Poof!" grunted Humphrey, leaning back and flicking the ashes from his cigar. "And I have also engaged a private detective," added Forrester. "Who?" queried Humphrey. "A man named Green—Benjamin F. Green." "There are detectives—and there are detectives," commented Humphrey. "Green falls in the first class." "I think I get your meaning," smiled Forrester, "and I am inclined to agree with you. That, in fact, is the great problem which confronts me now—how to get a _good_ detective at work on the case. Any suggestions, Mr. Humphrey?" "I’m a better knocker than I am a suggester," explained Humphrey. "I can tell you the faults of detectives as easily as I could run over my A-B-Cs. I’ll admit, though, that there _are_ some good ones. Sooner or later one of them will get on this case and solve it. I wouldn’t care to take the responsibility of recommending anyone." "I know you came here for an interview, Mr. Humphrey," said Forrester, "and I realize how dangerous it is to tell all your plans to a man who is seeking news. But on the other hand, I have a very high opinion of the ability and cleverness of newspaper men. That is why I am going to take you into my confidence." "I’m enjoying it," assured Humphrey, selecting and lighting another cigar. "The fact is," announced Forrester, "I am thinking of becoming a detective in this matter myself. The question is, can I do it—have I the ability to be a detective?" "Why not?" queried Humphrey. "Well, what, in your opinion, makes a good detective?" "Brains!" shot back Humphrey. "Look here, Mr. Forrester. As a reporter I can scent the biggest story ever scooped up by a Chicago newspaper. A rich man, in the face of dangerous threats, turning detective and running down a criminal band which has defied the best efforts of the police department. All I ask is that you give me the dope first!" "Then I may count on you to keep my plans quiet and give me a certain amount of assistance?" questioned Forrester. "You bet!" exclaimed Humphrey. "To tell you the truth, you’ve actually got me going. I can see real possibilities to the idea. Now, look here, Mr Forrester; my paper assigned the ’Friends of the Poor’ story to me the first time the matter came up. They have kept me at it since because I was familiar with the details. I don’t pretend to have any detective instincts, but just my share of common sense, and I have thought the whole matter over pretty carefully. The police, of course, would laugh at any theories from me, but you, perhaps, might like to hear my ideas on the subject." "Go ahead," urged Forrester.