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252 of me to show up only when I want your help; but one of these days I'll take a vacation and well have a little reunion of our own."

He rose and laid the stub of his cigar on the ash-tray.

"I'm only too glad to tell you anything I can, old man." Dilke held out his hand. "I'll fix you up a statement of Lorne's recorded stock deals for the past few months, if you like. I can get it to your rooms late to-night or to-morrow morning."

"I wish you would," Odell responded as they shook hands. "I can slip it into my report for my chief and save a lot of time. So long, Jim."

Leaving his friend, he made his way to the office of another newspaper farther uptown, a big metropolitan daily, where he spent more than an hour going over the files of two years before. He came at last upon that for which he had been seeking—a reproduction of a photograph—and he whistled softly as he studied it. One phase of the problem which had been an enigma from the first was now made clear.

Dining early, he returned to Headquarters for an hour's chat with Captain Lewis, but found that there had been no further developments since his previous visit. Sims still refused to talk, and the earth seemed to have opened and swallowed Farley Drew.

Miller, whose day of rest appeared to have obliterated all trace of the hours of torture when he lay bound and gagged in the launch beneath the boathouse, had reported for duty; and after telephoning to Smith, Odell set out once more for the Meade house in company with the operative.