Irwin said he hoped nothing more would be needed and that a few days would suffice, and Quirk, screwing a derby-hat on one side of his head, walked around the corner to the police-station to see his friend, the red-faced, genial Hugh Donovan, lieutenant of police. §2. Ex-Judge Stein, in the handsome room overlooking Broadway, had been having another telephone-conversation with the head of the Titus & Titherington Mercantile Agency while Mr. Irwin was consulting with Mr. Quirk. "That man has saved a bit," Alexander Titus was reporting; "but outside of his salary he has really only a hundred thousand dollars, and it’s all invested in the R. H. Forbes & Son clothing firm over in Brooklyn." The Judge made a note of this on a desk-pad. "I see," he said. "Who is the head of that firm, now?" "Wallace K. Forbes; I think he’s a grandson of old R. H." The Judge made another note. "How do they stand? Oddly enough, I have a client interested in their affairs, too." "The Forbes people? Pretty well. I had to get a report on them last week." "Have they any heavy loans?" "Only one that might hurt them: two hundred and fifty thousand dollars at call with the East County National." The Judge’s pencil was still busy. "I want to be quite clear about this," he said—"quite clear: my client in this Forbes matter is considering an investment. Am I to understand that if the East County National should call this loan, if it could not be renewed elsewhere, the firm would become insolvent?" "Oh, there’s no doubt about that. But then, there’s no doubt about its not being called, either. The company’s quite sound, Judge." "Thank you," said Stein. "You will have that other full report sent over?" "It’s on its way now." "Thank you again. You had better follow it with a copy of the Forbes report. If that bears out all you say, I shall instruct my client to go ahead." "He’ll be safe if he does, Judge." "Very well. Good-afternoon," said Stein. He called Miss Weston again. "Miss Weston," he said, "please get me City Chamberlain Kilgour, and, while I am speaking to him, call up the East County National and ask where you can find president Osserman. He will have left the bank, but I should like to reach him before I go home to-day." Miss Weston obeyed with her usual readiness to serve this one of her employers. §3. Police Lieutenant Donovan had not listened to half a dozen of Quirk’s words before he rose quickly and closed the door of his private room. His was one of those voices that cannot whisper, but it descended now to a hoarse muttering. "How much is there in this for me?" he demanded. "Nothin’," grinned Quirk. Donovan’s broad palm banged the table at which he sat. "Then good-_night_," said he. Quirk was undisturbed. "Could you do the trick?" he inquired. "You mean if it was worth my while?" "I mean what I say: could you do it?" "Could I do it? Of course, I could. It’d be like takin’ pennies from a blind man."