“Humph!” mused the Special Agent. “This is getting interesting. I don’t see how the census takers ever missed a merchant like that. We’ll have to go to original sources. Come on.” They went down one street and up another, examining every name on every shop in the district. When they were done, they knew no more about Marrash Roukas than they knew when they started. Apparently there was no such person in the Armenian quarter or in New York City. CHAPTER XIII SAVED BY WIRELESS It was only by a lively sprint that Willie got back to his office within the time limit set by Mr. King. In fact, it was two minutes past one before Willie was really in his own office and at his post. How different that old gate looked now! As it swung open, it was almost like a welcoming hand extended in greeting. Willie was just bursting to tell the news, but he had no opportunity to do so until Mr. King came in from his luncheon. “Well, what luck, Hawkshaw?” said Mr. King. “The best of luck,” said Willie, and he told his boss about the discoveries Mr. Easterly and he had made. “Good work, Willie,” said the Special Agent. “You have really done something worth while. Your discovery will break up this sort of thing for a time.” “I don’t know whether it will or not,” said Willie, suddenly rueful, “for there isn’t any such fellow as Marrash Roukas. At least we can’t find any trace of him.” “How’s that?” Willie told Mr. King of their vain search. He replied, “Well, you’ve stumbled on an unusually interesting case.” “It will be more interesting if we find Roukas,” said Willie. “But I don’t know how we are ever going to do that.” Mr. King did not seem disturbed. “We’ll let him find himself,” he said. “What do you mean?” “Let’s wait until Easterly disposes of the case,” said the Treasury Agent. “Then we’ll know all about it.” And that was all the comfort Willie could get from his superior. But Willie didn’t have to wait nearly as long to learn the conclusion of the story as he had feared he would. Before the office closed that evening, Mr. Easterly came swinging up the corridor. “Got him,” he said to Willie. “He’s in the Tombs prison now.” “Gee!” gasped Willie. “How did you find him so soon?” “I let him find himself,” said Mr. Easterly. “I went back to the pier and waited for him to call for his goods. I reckoned he would come early, while everything was in confusion on the pier, because he wouldn’t attract half so much attention then. That’s just what he did. He drove up with an old junk wagon and asked for freight for Marrash Roukas. Of course we grabbed him.” “Of course,” said Willie, with chagrin. “I never thought of that.” “You will be interested to know,” went on the customs agent, “that there really isn’t any such fellow as Marrash Roukas, after all.” “There isn’t? Then how did you catch him? I don’t exactly understand.”