, and doors and windows blossomed with heads eager to see
the swell furs Kid Brady had given his girl. All down the street
there were "Oh's" and "Ah's" and the reported fabulous sum paid for
the sables was passed from lip to lip, increasing as it went. At her
right elbow sauntered the Kid with the air of princes. Work had not
diminished his love of pomp and show and his passion for the costly
and genuine. On a corner they saw a group of the Stovepipe Gang
loafing, immaculate. They raised their hats to the Kid's girl and
went on with their calm, unaccented palaver.

Three blocks behind the admired couple strolled Detective Ransom, of
the Central office. Ransom was the only detective on the force who
could walk abroad with safety in the Stovepipe district. He was fair
dealing and unafraid and went there with the hypothesis that the
inhabitants were human. Many liked him, and now and then one would
tip off to him something that he was looking for.

"What's the excitement down the street?" asked Ransom of a pale
youth in a red sweater.

"Dey're out rubberin' at a set of buffalo robes Kid Brady staked his
girl to," answered the youth. "Some say he paid $900 for de skins.
Dey're swell all right enough."

"I hear Brady has been working at his old trade for nearly a year,"
said the detective. "He doesn't travel with the gang any more, does
he?"

"He's workin', all right," said the red sweater, "but--say, sport,
are you trailin' anything in the fur line? A job in a plumbin' shop
don' match wid dem skins de Kid's girl's got on."

Ransom overtook the strolling couple on an empty street near the
river bank. He touched the Kid's arm from behind.

"Let me see you a moment, Brady," he said, quietly. His eye rested
for a second on the long fur scarf thrown stylishly back over
Molly's left shoulder. The Kid, with his old-time police hating
frown on his face, stepped a yard or two aside with the detective.

"Did you go to Mrs. Hethcote's on West 7--th street yesterday to fix
a leaky water pipe?" asked Ransom.

"I did," said the Kid. "What of it?"

"The lady's $1,000 set of Russian sables went out of the house about
the same time you did. The description fits the ones this lady has
on."

"To h--Harlem with you," cried the Kid, angrily. "You know I've
cut out that sort of thing, Ransom. I bought them sables yesterday
at--"

The Kid stopped short.

"I know you've been working straight lately," said Ransom. "I'll
give you