ed it upside down to shake
it out. It didn't mean anything in particular to Mr. Birnes, the fact
that the grip was empty, so he didn't get excited about it.

Mr. Wynne left the car at Thirty-fourth Street, the south end of the
Park Avenue tunnel, by the front door, and the detective stepped off
the rear end. Mr. Wynne brushed past him as he went up the stairs,
and as he did so he smiled a little--a very little. He walked on up
Park Avenue to Thirty-seventh Street, turned in there and entered a
house about the middle of the block, with a latch-key. The detective
glanced at the number of the house, and felt aggrieved--it was the
number that was written in the note! And Mr. Wynne had entered with
a key! Which meant, in all probability, that he _did_ live there, as
he had said!

But why did he take that useless cab ride up Fifth Avenue? If he had
no objection to any one knowing his address, why did he go so far out
of his way? Mr. Birnes couldn't say. As he pondered these questions
he saw a maid-servant come out of a house adjoining that which Mr.
Wynne had entered, an he went up boldly to question her.

Did a Mr. Wynne live next door? Yes. How long had he lived there?
Five or six months. Did he own the house? No. The people who owned
the house had gone to Europe for a year and had rented it furnished.
No, Mr. Wynne didn't have a family. He lived there alone except for
two servants, a cook and a housemaid. She had never noticed anything
unusual about Mr. Wynne, or the servants, or the house. Yes, he went
out every day, downtown to business. No, she didn't know what his
business was, but she had an idea that he was a broker. That was all.

From a near-by telephone booth the detective detailed Claflin and
Malone, who had returned to the office, to keep a sharp watch on
the house, after which he walked on to Fifth Avenue, and down Fifth
Avenue to the establishment of the H. Latham Company. Mr. Latham
would see him--yes. In fact, Mr. Latham, harried by the events of
the past two hours, bewildered by a hundred-million-dollar diamond
deal which had been thrust down his throat gracefully, but none the
less certainly, and ridden by the keenest curiosity, was delighted
to see Mr. Birnes.

"I've got his house address all right," Mr. Birne boasted, in the
beginning. Of course it was against the ethics of the profession to
tell _how_ he got it.

"Progress already," commented Mr. Latham with keen interest.