ve learned to-night. But then, I'm
astonished myself. I feel like the boy who went fishing for sunfish and
caught a whale."

Next morning she was up early, alert to continue her investigations.
When she heard Mr. Kauffman go down to breakfast she took a bunch of
pass-keys from her bag, went boldly through the hall to the door of 45,
unlocked it with ease and walked in. A hurried glance showed her a
large suitcase lying open upon a table. She examined its contents. One
side was filled with samples of suspenders, the other with
miscellaneous articles of male apparel.

Josie was not satisfied. She peered under the bed, softly opened all
the drawers in the dresser and finally entered the closet. Here, on the
rear shelf, a newspaper was placed in such manner as to hide from
observation anything behind it. To an ordinary person, glancing toward
it, the newspaper meant nothing; to Josie's practised eye it was
plainly a shield. Being short of stature, the girl had to drag in a
chair in order to reach the high shelf. She removed the newspaper, took
down a black hand-satchel--it was dreadfully heavy and she almost
dropped it--and then replaced the paper as it had been before.

Josie was jubilant. She removed the chair, again closed the closet
door, and leaving the room practically as she had found it stole back
to her own apartment, the heavy satchel concealed in the folds of her
frock. But no one saw her, the hall being vacant, and she breathed a
sigh of relief as she locked her own door against possible intruders.

Then she placed the black satchel on a stand and bent over it. The lock
was an unusual one. She tried all the slender keys upon her bunch
without effect--they were either too large or did not fit the keyhole.
Next she took a thin hairpin, bent and twisted it this way and that and
tried to pry the lock open. Failure. However, she was beginning to
understand the mechanism of the lock by this time. From that
all-containing handbag which was her inseparable companion she drew out
a file, and taking one of the master-keys, began to file it to fit the
lock of the black satchel.

This operation consumed more time than she was aware, so interesting
was the intricate work. She was presently startled by a sound in the
corridor. Mr. Kauffman was coming back to his room, whistling an aria
from "Die Walkure." Josie paused, motionless; her heart almost stopped
beating.

The man unlocked his door and entered, still whistling