" spoke the head clerk. "I'll show it to all the
carriers who are in now, and later to those who come in during the
afternoon. They may recognize it. It's a little out of the run of
ordinary envelopes we get in this section of the city."

One after another several carriers scanned the envelope. All shook
their heads, until it came to an elderly man. As soon as he saw the
envelope he exclaimed:

"I brought that in. I remember it very well." "Where did you get
it?" asked Larry, eagerly. "A man gave it to me last night, just as
I was taking the mail from a box down near the river," was the
unexpected reply.

CHAPTER XVIII

LARRY IS BAFFLED

This was much better than Larry had expected. To have the envelope
remembered so soon was good, but to have the carrier who brought it
in say he recalled having received it from the person who mailed the
letter, was better yet.

"What sort of a man was he?" asked Larry, his heart beating high
with hope.

"Why do you ask?" inquired the carrier.

"I'm a reporter from the _Leader_, and I'm trying to locate Mr.
Potter, the missing millionaire," said Larry. "This letter was from
him."

"Then I can't be of much service to you," the postman went on. "This
was given to me by a man who bore no resemblance to Mr. Potter,
whose picture I have lately seen in the papers."

"But what sort of a looking man gave you this envelope?" asked
Larry.

"He was a smooth-shaven man, rather poorly dressed. I'll tell you
how it was. This box, at which I was when the man gave me the
letter, is at the foot of a street leading to the river. It is the
last one I collect from at night. I had taken out all the mail in
the box, and was just locking it up again when some one came up the
street in a hurry. I looked around, for the neighborhood is a lonely
one, and, as I did so, I saw a man come to a halt, as if he was
surprised to see me at the box. I could see he had a letter in his
hand.

"'Come on,' I said, for often people run up to me at the last minute
to have me take letters. 'Come on,' I said, for I was in a hurry.
'I'll take the letter.'

"At that the man pulled his hat down over his eyes and advanced
slowly. He held the letter out to me, and, as he did so, I caught a
glimpse of his face, as the light from a street lamp flashed on it.
I could see he was smooth shaven. I took the letter and put it in my
bag. As I did so the man seemed to melt away in the shadows. I
thought it rather qu