"I should hate to do it," the voice went on, "you're too good a sport." "Much obliged," put in Jack. "But I'd have no choice, really. I must have rest. My doctor orders it." Jack smiled grimly at the thought of a crook threatened with nervous prostration as a result of overwork. These are rapid times that we live in! He cast about in his mind for the means to prolong the conversation. "How do I know you're on the square?" he asked. "About quitting, I mean." "Go see your friend Anderson to-morrow. You'll find him closed up. Mail your employer's check to the Eureka Protective Association. It will be returned to you by the post-office." It seemed wise to Jack to appear to fall in with the other's suggestions. "I appreciate your friendliness in warning me," he said. "Do you mind if I ask you a question or two. Just natural, human curiosity, you know." "Ask them and I'll see." "How did you know I had been here in your office when you came. I had disturbed nothing." "Perhaps I was there myself at the time." "Impossible! I made sure of that." The laugh sounded again. "Nothing is impossible! Think it over!" "What first put you on to the fact that I was after you?" "Oh, you want to know too much," was the laughing reply. "Answer me a question." "Go ahead." "What first made you suspect the Eureka Association?" "Mr. Gyde left his heir a statement of their dealings with him." "Hm! I never thought of that possibility." "Now answer my question." "You'd like to keep me here, wouldn't you, until you have time to trace this call back, and send a man to nab me. Sorry I can't oblige. I'm at Grand Central and my train is leaving. Good-bye!" The detective had not sufficient time, of course, to get his man. Oddly enough the humorous "Mr. B" had told the truth as to where he was. The call had come from the Grand Central station. 35 Locked in his own room, Jack went over and over that telephone conversation, regarding it from every angle, and seeking to establish a new plan of campaign upon his conclusions. He was inclined to believe that "Mr. B" was sincere in his intentions of quitting the game. His dealings with the man had shown him that like all really able liars he used as much of the truth as he could. At any rate he would soon know whether or not he had quit. But that "Mr. B" would now settle down to a life of respectability, Jack did not credit for a moment. It was all very well for him to talk about being "tired," excitement gets into the blood and one finds onesself unable to live without it. The thing was to figure out in advance what new direction his villainy would take.