an inducement for him to retire, and then to
receive in return a New York Central baggage-check numbered 18329, and
reading from Cleveland to New York. Esper Indiman and I exchanged
smiles.

"This looks like the real thing," said my friend. "My dear Thorp, there
must be some rare element in your chemical make-up that serves to
precipitate these delightful mysteries. Adventures fairly flock about
us. We shall have to screen the doors and windows or be overwhelmed.
Seriously, I am infinitely obliged to you, for I had started on my
eleventh game of solitaire, and was beginning to feel a trifle bored.
But now--now there is something doing, as Mr. Devery would remark. Let
us start the ball rolling by giving Bolder the third degree."

Bolder, recalled, was disposed to be cheerfully communicable. Certainly
he would know the man again; he had a good look at him. The sun was
shining brightly, and it had fallen full on the fellow's face.

"Describe him, then," said Indiman, note-book in hand.

Put to the test, Bolder was not so good a witness as we had hoped for;
he wandered and grew confused in his statements. Light hair? Yes, it
might have been that--though, now that he thought of it, the shade was
rather on the darkish order. An old man? Well, not noticeably so;
perhaps thirty-five or a little younger.

"Or a little older--say fifty-five?"

"Well, it might have been fifty-five, sir. I couldn't swear to it
exactly."

"That will do, Bolder," said Indiman, and our witness retired abashed.

"Check number one," commented Indiman. "Suppose we try the Grand
Central now. We won't take out the carriage; the day is fine and I want
the walk."

It was a beautiful morning in August, cool and clear, and we strode
along briskly. A hand-organ began playing in a side street, and we
stopped to listen. "It's the same aria," I said, excitedly--"'Celeste
Aida.' What tremendous luck! No, it isn't; deuce take it!" I went on,
dejectedly.

"But you just said it was the same," persisted Indiman.

"With a difference," I hastened to explain. Now, Indiman is not
musical, and I had some trouble in convincing him that within the
compass of a semitone a veritable gulf may yawn. This particular organ
played the phrase in the third bar correctly--F sharp and not F
natural--and consequently it could not be the same instrument that had
vexed my ears half an hour ago at No. 4020 Madison Avenue.

"There is a real difference, then?" said Indiman, th