lief
when the president opened the door and entered without a remark.

It was lucky for Burke that the day was so warm, for the president had
left the window open when he left, otherwise Burke could not possibly
have carried out his plan so opportunely.

The telephone bell rang. Mary answered and was greeted by Bob's voice.

"Is it you, Mary?" he exclaimed hurriedly.

"Yes."

"Then start your machine, for I saw this man Shepard go upstairs to the
floor beneath you."

"All right, Bob," said Mary softly.

"When the records are run out, unless I telephone you sooner, call one
of the girls to take your place, tell her you are sick, and smuggle out
the records--don't bother about the machine, we'll get that later. I
will be downstairs waiting for you."

"Yes. I understand."

The time dragged horribly, but at last the hour had passed, and Mary
wrapped up the precious wax cylinders and hurried downstairs.

Bob was pacing up and down anxiously.

"Shepard has eluded me. I was afraid to leave you, and he took an
auto, and disappeared over toward the East Side. I have telephoned
Captain Sawyer to have a phonograph ready for us. Come, we'll get over
to the station at once. I hope your records give us the clue. If they
don't, I'm afraid the trail is lost."

They hurried to the station house. In the private office of the
Captain they found that officer waiting with eagerness.

"What's it all about, Bob?" he cried. "Why this phonograph?"

"It will explain itself, Captain," answered 4434. "Let's fix these
records in the regular way, and then we will run them in order."

They did so in absolute silence. The Captain listened, first in
bewilderment, then in great excitement.

"Great snakes! Where did you get those? That is a conversation
between a bunch of traffickers. Listen, they are buying and selling,
making reports and laying out their work for the night."

"Sssh!" cautioned Bob. "There's something important we want to get."

Suddenly Mary gripped his hand.

"That's Shepard's voice. I'd never forget it."

They listened. The man told of the condition of Lorna, mentioning her
by name now. She had returned to consciousness, and was detained in
the room of a house not five blocks from the police station.

"I'll break her spirit now. None of this stage talk any more, Clemm,"
droned the voice in the phonograph. "When I get my whip going she'll
be glad enough to put on the silk dresses. She sc