y outfit myself."

"You're going to take me off the Brunell trail!" Morrow's astonishment
and obvious distaste for the change of program confronting him was
all-revealing. "But I'll have to go back and make some sort of
explanation for leaving so abruptly, won't I? Will it pay to arouse
their suspicions--that is, sir, unless you've got some special reason
for doing so?"

Blaine's slow smile was very kindly and sympathetic as he eyed the
anxious young man before him.

"No. You will go back, of course, and explain that you have obtained
a clerkship which necessitates your moving downtown. Make your peace
with Miss Brunell if you like, but remember, Guy, don't mix sentiment
and business. It won't do. I may have to put you back on the job there
in a few days, and I know I can depend on you not to lose your head.
She's a young girl and a pretty one; but don't forget she's the
daughter of Jimmy Brunell, the man we're trying to get! Pennington
Lawton had a daughter, too; remember that--and she's been defrauded of
everything in the world but her lover and her faith in her father's
memory." His voice had gradually grown deeper and more stern, and he
added in brisk, businesslike tones, far removed from the personal
element. "Now get back to the Bronx. Come to me to-morrow morning, and
I'll have the data in the Paddington matter ready for you."

The young detective had scarcely taken his departure, when Ramon
Hamilton appeared. He was in some excitement, and glanced nervously
behind him as he entered, as if almost in fear of possible pursuit.

"Mr. Blaine," he began, "I'm confident that we're suspected. Here's a
note that came to me from President Mallowe this morning. He asks if I
inadvertently carried away with me that letter of Pennington Lawton's
written from Long Bay two years ago, in which I had shown such an
interest during our interview the other day. He has been unable to
find it since my departure. That's a rather broad hint, it seems to
me."

"I should not consider it as such," the detective responded. "Guilty
conscience, Mr. Hamilton!"

"That's not all!" the young lawyer went on. "He says that a curious
burglary was committed at his offices the night after my interview
with him--his watchman was chloroformed, and the safe in his private
office opened and rifled, yet nothing was taken, with the possible
exception of that letter. Mallowe asks me, openly, if I knew of an
ulterior motive which any one might have p