"I thought he might do as much, Mary. I wouldn't risk tampering with the lock. Instead, I found an empty room on the floor above. I have a rope, and I will take the receiver of your father's machine with the disc, and part of the wiring which I had already cut. There is no fire escape from the floor above for some reason. He will suspect all the less, then, for he would not think of anyone coming through the headquarters on the floor below. I will go down hand over hand, you shove the wire under the door to me, and I'll attach it. Then I'll go up the ladder, and we'll let the dictagraph do its work." Thus it was accomplished. Mary covered the machine and its wiring in the outer office, although several times she had to quit at inopportune times to answer the telephone, or make a connection. Burke, from the room above, climbed down hurriedly, adjusted the instrument as he had been told to do by John Barton. Then he was out, barely drawing himself and the rope away from the window view before Trubus entered. Mary thought that it was all discovered, but breathed a sigh of relief when the president opened the door and entered without a remark. It was lucky for Burke that the day was so warm, for the president had left the window open when he left, otherwise Burke could not possibly have carried out his plan so opportunely. The telephone bell rang. Mary answered and was greeted by Bob's voice. "Is it you, Mary?" he exclaimed hurriedly. "Yes." "Then start your machine, for I saw this man Shepard go upstairs to the floor beneath you." "All right, Bob," said Mary softly. "When the records are run out, unless I telephone you sooner, call one of the girls to take your place, tell her you are sick, and smuggle out the records--don't bother about the machine, we'll get that later. I will be downstairs waiting for you." "Yes. I understand." The time dragged horribly, but at last the hour had passed, and Mary wrapped up the precious wax cylinders and hurried downstairs. Bob was pacing up and down anxiously. "Shepard has eluded me. I was afraid to leave you, and he took an auto, and disappeared over toward the East Side. I have telephoned Captain Sawyer to have a phonograph ready for us. Come, we'll get over to the station at once. I hope your records give us the clue. If they don't, I'm afraid the trail is lost." They hurried to the station house. In the private office of the Captain they found that officer waiting with eagerness. "What's it all about, Bob?" he cried. "Why this phonograph?" "It will explain itself, Captain," answered 4434. "Let's fix these records in the regular way, and then we will run them in order." They did so in absolute silence. The Captain listened, first in bewilderment, then in great excitement. "Great snakes! Where did you get those? That is a conversation between a bunch of traffickers. Listen, they are buying and selling, making reports and laying out their work for the night."