One of the smoothest is Sammy Tibbots, but he's doing
time in Joliet, so we may as well eliminate Sammy."

"No, no!" Deering exclaimed impatiently. "It was a girl who did the
trick! She was at the local ticket window, just behind me. You see, I was
nervous and after I bought my ticket it dropped to the floor, and while I
was picking it up that girl grabbed my suitcase and beat it for the
gate."

"Enter the girl," Hood muttered. "'Twas ever thus! Of course, you
telegraphed ahead and stopped her--that was the obvious course."

"There you go! If I'd done that, there wouldn't have been any publicity;
oh, no!" Deering replied contemptuously. "People don't carry big bunches
of bonds around in suitcases; they send 'em by registered express. Of
course, if the girl was honest she'd report the matter to the railroad
officials and they'd notify the police, and they'd be looking for the
thief! And that's just what I don't want."

"Of course not," Hood assented readily. "That was Wednesday and this is
Friday, and you haven't seen any ads in the papers about a suitcase full
of bonds? Well, I'd hardly have missed such a thing myself. What did the
girl look like?"

"Small, dressed in blue and wearing a white veil. She made a lively
sprint for the gate, and climbed into the last car just as the train
started. The conductor yelled to her not to try it, but the porter jumped
out and pushed her up the steps."

At Hood's suggestion Deering brought the suitcase that had been exchanged
for his own, and disclosed its contents--a filmy night-dress, a silk
shirt-waist, a case of ivory toilet articles bearing a complicated
monogram, a bottle of violet-water, half empty, a pair of silk stockings,
a novel, a pair of patent-leather pumps, all tumbled together.

[Illustration: "The young person left in haste, that's clear enough,"
remarked Hood.]

"The young person left in haste, that's clear enough," remarked Hood,
balancing one of the pumps in his hand. "'Bonet, Paris,'" he read,
squinting at the lining. "Most deplorable that we have both slippers; one
would have been a clew, and we could have spent the rest of our lives
measuring footprints. Very nice slippers, though; fastidious young person,
I'll wager. The monogram on these trinkets is of no assistance--it might
be R. G. T., or T. G. R., or G. R. T. Monograms are a nuisance, a
delusion, a snare!"

Deering flung the faintly scented violet-tinted toilet-case into the bag
resentfully.