Then, turnin' to a court officer he says:
"Take this policeman to Headquarters for investigation. Yes, Mr. Wales,
you may have your pole, but I should advise you to carry it home in a
cab."

"Thank you kindly, sir," says Barry. But after he gets outside he asks
pleadin': "Don't I get arrested any more?"

I shakes my head. "It's all over for tonight, Barry," says I. "Objective
attained, and if you don't mind I'll take charge of this war loot. Drop
you at your club, shall we?"

So I still had the striped pole when we rolled up at McCrea's hotel. I
was shiftin' it around in the taxi, wonderin' where I'd better dump it,
when I made the big discovery.

"Say," I whispers husky to McCrea, "there's something funny about this."

"The pole?" says he.

"Uh-huh!" says I. "It's hollow. There's a little trap door in one side."

"Hah!" says McCrea. "Bring it up."

And you'd think by the way him and his friends proceeded to hog the
thing, that it was their find. After I'd shown 'em where to press the
secret spring they crowded around and blocked off my view. All I got was
a glimpse of some papers that they dug out of the inside somewhere. And
some excited they are as they paws 'em over.

"In the same old code," says McCrea.

But finally he leads me to one side. "Myers is the man, all right," says
he.

"Course he is," says I. "If he wasn't why would he be so wise as to
whose pole it was, or about Otto's handwritin'?"

"Ah!" says McCrea, noddin' enthusiastic. "So that was your system in
having your friend arrested? You tried out the officers. Very clever!
But how you came to suspect that the barber's pole was being used as a
mail box I don't understand."

"No," says I, "you wouldn't. That's where the deep stuff comes in."

McCrea takes that with a smile. "Lieutenant," says he, "I shall be
pleased to report to Major Wellby that his estimate of you was quite
correct. And allow me to say that I believe you have done for the
Government a great service tonight; though how you managed it so neatly
I'll be hanged if I see. And--er--I think that will be all." With which
he urges me polite towards the door.

But it wasn't all. Not quite. I hear there's something on the way to me
from the chief himself, and Old Hickory has been chucklin' around for
three days. Also I've had a hunch that one boss barber and one New York
cop have done the vanishing act. Anyway, when I was down to the
Northumberland yesterday for a shave there was