Prentice held the paper out for Forrester to see when the young man joined him, with the remark, "Evidently you did not get the first warning of the season, Bob, as I thought. Here’s a man who received a notice two weeks ago, and assumed the same attitude that you did this afternoon toward this mysterious band." "Who was he?" "George Nevins, the banker!" "George Nevins!" repeated Forrester, aghast at the news. "Yes, old George Nevins—the tightest man in Chicago. I’ll wager _he_ fought as hard as any one could, but see what happened!" Prentice paused a moment, then added, impressively, "Do _you_ still want to fight?" "Harder than ever now!" asserted Forrester. This was bringing it very close to home. Forrester wanted to be alone to think it over, so he gave his telephone call as an excuse, and took leave of Prentice. "’Failure to comply means death!’" quoted Prentice, warningly, as Forrester turned to go. CHAPTER II—"FRIENDS OF THE POOR" On leaving the club, Forrester strolled slowly and thoughtfully north along Michigan Avenue. The knowledge that old Mr. Nevins had met his death at the hands of the same people who now threatened him, impressed Forrester with the seriousness of the situation. Always a fighter, his army training had developed this side of his nature to a point where it was practically impossible for him to accede to an unjust demand without a struggle. It was Tuesday. Forrester reflected that he had but four days in which to freely carry out any plan which he might decide upon. In view of Prentice’s experience, and the startling death of Mr. Nevins, there was no question that after midnight Saturday every move Forrester made would be attended with danger. Immersed in these thoughts, Forrester suddenly found himself in front of the public library building at Washington Street. It reminded him that the city detective bureau was on La Salle Street at about this point. In spite of the apparent non-success of the police, he decided that his first duty would be to report to them the demand just made upon him. A few minutes later Forrester entered the detective bureau and sent in his card to the Chief of Detectives. After being admitted to the Chief’s office Forrester laid the message from the "Friends of the Poor" before the head of the detective bureau, with the remark: "I’m next! What shall I do about it?" "Mr. Forrester," said the Chief, after only a hasty glance at the notice, which showed his familiarity with the subject, "sorry as I am to say it, the Department has made little progress in this matter. We have a half-dozen detectives working on the case right now. Detective Sergeants Cahill and O’Connor have given it special study. They have been working among the West Side joints for some time, and today they reported to me that they think they have a line on some of these men. Nothing definite, understand, but it is the first suggestion of a clue which we have had.