Metropolitan Club after five, usually; the
Opera Monday nights. Neither of these habits will assist me in the
least. I want by to-morrow a pretty good list of his engagements and a
general map of his day--or perhaps you know enough now to oblige me with
that information."

Brencherly cast an inquisitive look at Gard. He had never accepted
Gard's explanation of his interest in Mahr's affairs.

"Well," he began slowly, "I put our men on the other end of the
case--Balling, the Essex Safe Company and all that, and I went after
Mahr myself. I think I can give you a fair idea of his daily life. He's
at the office early--before nine, usually--and by twelve he's off,
unless something unusual happens. He lunches with a club of men, as I
guess you know. He goes for an hour to Tim McCurdy's, the ex-pugilist,
for training. Then he's home for an hour with his secretary, going over
private business and correspondence. Then he goes to the club for
bridge, and in the evening he's usually out somewhere--any place that's
A1 with the crowd. His son he has tied as tight to the office as any
tenpenny clerk; doesn't get off till after five, and then he makes a
beeline for the Marteens' or goes wherever he'll find the girl. I
think--but, perhaps you know best." He paused, with one of his
characteristic shuffles.

Gard noted the sign and interpreted it correctly.

"If you've got a good idea, it's worth your while," he said shortly.

Brencherly blushed as guilelessly as a girl. "Oh, it's nothing, only I
think--perhaps if you want to see him alone, you might pretend some
business and go to his house about the time he's there every afternoon."

"And discuss our affairs before a secretary?" sneered Gard. "You can bet
Mahr'd have him in the office--I know his way."

"Well, his den is pretty near sound-proof, like yours, sir. And besides,
I could arrange with Mr. Long, the secretary, to have a headache, or a
bad fall, or any little thing, the day you might mention--he's a
personal friend of mine."

"Well, just now I don't much care how you manage it. What I want is that
interview. Is your friend, Mr. Long, a confidential secretary?"

"I don't think," said Brencherly demurely, "that Mr. Mahr is very
confidential even to himself."

"Could you reach him--Mr. Long, I mean--at any time?" asked Gard--he was
planning rapidly.

The detective nodded toward the telephone.

"Well," growled his employer, "could your man suggest to Mahr that he
h