husiasm that demanded immediate physical action.

"Heh," I said, "you look fine. Must have slept well."

"Make it rested, and I'll go you," he came back cheerfully.

He'd already been out, going down to the Grant Avenue corner for an
assortment of Bay cities papers not to be had at the hotel news-stands,
so that he could see whether our canny announcement of Clayte's fifteen
thousand dollar defalcation had received discreet attention from the
Associated Press.

For my part, our agency had been able to get hold of three women who had
seen Clayte and remembered the event; Mrs. Griggsby; a stenographer at
the bank; and the woman who sold newspapers at the St. Dunstan corner.
Miss Wallace's suggestion had proven itself, for these three agreed with
fair exactness, and the description run in the late editions of the city
papers was less vague than the others. It gave Clayte's eyes as a pale
gray-blue, and his hair as dull brown, eliminating at least all
brown-eyed men. Worth asserted warmly,

"That girl's going to be useful to us, Boyne." I couldn't well disagree
with him, after using her hint. We were getting out of the elevator on
the office floor when he looked at me, grinned boyishly, and added,
"What would you say if I told you I was being shadowed?"

"That I thought it very likely," I nodded. "Also I might hazard a guess
at whose money is paying for it."

He gave me a quick glance, but asked no questions. I could see he was
enjoying his position, up to the hilt, considered the attentions of a
trailer as one of its perquisites.

"Keep your eyes open and you'll spot him as we go out," he said as he
left the key at the desk.

It was hardly necessary to keep my eyes open to see the lurking figure
over beyond the easy-chairs, which started galvanically as we passed
through the court, and a moment later came sidling after us. Little Pete
had left my machine at the Market Street entrance--Worth was to drive
me--and we wheeled away from a disappointed man racing for the taxi line
around the corner.

"More power to his legs," Worth said.

"Oh, I don't know," I grunted as we cut into Montgomery, negotiated the
corner onto Bush Street's clear way, striking a fair clip at once. "That
end of him already works better than the other. How did you get wise?"

"Barbara Wallace telephoned me to look out for him," he smiled, and let
my car out another notch once we'd passed the traffic cop at Kearny.

I myself had foreseen t