Inquiry at the office revealed the fact that half an hour before he had been brought home very much the worse for wear by an elderly friend, who departed as soon as he had put him in his room. Jack dismissed the boy and sent the car to the garage. Returning to their suite, Jack gazed grimly at the recumbent Bobo, who appeared to have suffered no permanent harm. He lay sprawling on the bed, breathing stertorously. The big white shirt bosom was rumpled and stained. His overcoat lay in a heap beside the bed. Jack was greatly relieved, but indignant, and more puzzled than ever. "I didn't suspect our friend with the imperial of being a philanthropist," he thought. "His letters certainly didn't read that way. Why the deuce did he take the risk of kidnapping Bobo from McGann's if he only meant to bring him home? It beats the Dutch!" Suddenly Bobo sat up with a grunt. "Wassa matter?" he asked thickly. "That's what I'd like to know," said Jack. Recollection returned to Bobo in a flash, and he clapped his head between his hands. "Lord! But I'm sick!" he groaned hollowly. "Get up," said Jack coldly. "Go into the bathroom, and stick your head in cold water. I'll send for a pot of coffee for you." Bobo put a hand to his waistcoat pocket, and seemed about to burst into tears. "My watch is gone!" he wailed. "You're lucky to be here yourself! A nice chase you've led me!" "What time is it?" Jack consulted his watch. "Ten-fifteen. It's been a busy forty-five minutes!" It was a much chastened Bobo that presently returned to the room. "What happened to me?" he asked. "I'll tell you. You fell into the hands of the Red Gang, that's all; the same little gentleman with the Imperial that dropped us a line last night. Why, after capturing you, he was content to give you up again, I don't know." Bobo turned pale, and his knees weakened under him. He dropped in a chair. "The Red Gang!" he murmured. "Oh, my God! Never again! Never again, s'elp me Bob! Never another drop unless you are right there to take care of me!" Jack grunted scornfully. Jack picked up the overcoat from the floor. As he did so, he discovered a piece of white paper pinned to the lapel. "Ha! Maybe this is the key to the mystery!" he cried, pouncing on it. It was written upon by the same hand that had indited the note of the night before. "_To the Secretary:_ "_For Heaven's sake try to teach this addle-pate the danger of drinking with strangers. His foolishness to-night almost wrecked all our plans. We have saved him from the worst den of thugs in New York, not from any love of him, you may be sure, but because when the right time comes we mean to get him ourselves._ "_The Red Gang._" "Oh, Lor'! Oh, Lor'! Oh, Lor'!" groaned Bobo. "What's the use! They'll get me anyhow!" Jack laughed suddenly. "What are you laughing at? I don't see anything to laugh at." "Cheer up! This doesn't exactly mean what it says. I see it all now."