cunningly resembled a well-to-do
business man, while a third had the clothing and the air of a tramp.
The fourth, with his dapper tailoring and ferret-like face, was more
familiar to the expert in crime.

These, however, Garth passed over quickly for the fifth, perhaps
because, with the detective's extra sense, he foresaw there a special
and unintelligible menace.

This man brought his huge, handsome figure forward and leaned heavily on
the table. His close-cropped hair, dampened by the heat, curled about a
bronzed forehead from beneath which inquisitorial and threatening eyes
challenged.

The slender man, who clearly was the leader, crossed the room.

"Seeing ghosts, George?" he asked. "Or maybe you're anxious for a
glimpse of what Simmons hasn't got any more. Why not show him the big
event, Simmons?"

His laugh, scarcely audible, was like the wrath of a gigantic sneer.

Garth's hand crept to his pocket and closed over his revolver. George
drew back.

"Look yourself, Slim, and it ought to be done."

The other swung on him angrily.

"Do you think I'm bringing him here without checking him up. He doesn't
have to take his mask off to show you a scar. The lot of you look like
sudden wealth for a nerve specialist. Sit down. We'll get to business."

He swung on Simmons.

"I know how you feel about that. Now, listen. All you know is that we
wanted a scientific fellow who doesn't use his profession exclusively
for the benefit of humanity. Also one without any nerves. I've always
heard that of you."

Garth nodded, smiling a little to himself. Lack of nerves had been the
inspector's chief requisite. Now the criminals demanded the same
quality. He stood, as it were, between two deadly fires. He wondered if
murder was on the boards. He recalled the slip of white paper in his
pocket, questioning if he would be able to finger it, to scratch upon it
those vital invisible directions before these sharp and overcurious
eyes.

The slender man hurried on, glancing at his watch.

"We're waiting for one more. At first all you have to do is to keep
close to George. We're going to crack a safe."

His voice colored apologetically.

"No jewelry or bags of gold. George falls for that cheap stuff now and
then, but you needn't be ashamed of this job, Simmons. By the way, I
don't have to ask you if you duck your lid every time the band blats
'Oh, say, can you see!'"

Garth shook his head.

"Say, Simmons," George broke in, "