oughtfully. "One
that you would recognize again?"

"At any place or time," I answered, confidently. "It is an absolute
means of identification, quite as much so as a glass eye would be in a
man's face."

"Very good. We'll find that hand-organ, then, if we have to go through
'Little Italy' with a drag-net. How beautifully the problem is working
out!--almost too beautifully."

At the incoming baggage-room Indiman presented the check numbered
18329. A porter appeared with a large trunk loaded on a truck. "City
transfer?" he asked.

"No, I'll take it with me," said Indiman. "Thorp, will you get a hack."

We were about to drive off, and I felt for my match-box. Provoking! I
must have left it at home, and I wanted a cigarette. "One moment," I
called, and jumped out, having caught sight of Ellison, who had been
with me in college. He was hurrying into the station. I should be glad
to have a word with him and secure a match at the same time. But
somehow I missed him in making my way through the swinging doors.
Ellison was nowhere to be seen, and I had to content myself with
getting a light at the cigar counter. I went back to the carriage and
climbed in.

"It was Ellison," I explained. "A good chap, and I should have liked to
meet him."

"Some other time, perhaps," said Indiman, politely, and we drove off.

"So you've got it," I said, staring up at the trunk that occupied the
box at the hackman's left. "It looks ordinary enough."

"The porter told me that it came in last night on the Lake Shore
Limited," said Indiman. "Nothing remarkable about that, either."

A sudden thought struck me. "By Jove! we're no better than thieves," I
said, frowningly. "The possession of a baggage-check doesn't
necessarily carry with it the ownership of the parcel for which it
calls. The rightful proprietor may be even now at the Grand Central
explaining the loss of the check and trying to identify his property."

Indiman looked a little blank. "Of course, your obvious theory may be
the true one," he said, slowly. "The hunting of mare's-nests is a
weakness of mine. But what are you about there?"

"Telling the driver to take us back to the station," I answered, with
my hand on the check-cord.

"I don't know about doing that--just now. There might be some awkward
explanations to make to your hypothetical owner. Or, failing him, to
the police."

"It doesn't absolutely follow," he continued, "that there is an owner
or that he is anxiou