ded.

"They were his, as far as we know," replied Mr. Latham.

"How much were they worth?"

Mr. Latham looked him over thoughtfully.

"I am not at liberty to tell you that, Mr. Birnes," he said at last.
"There are a great number of them, and they are worth--they are
worth a large sum of money. And they are all unset. That's enough
for you to know, I think."

It seemed to be quite enough for Mr. Birnes to know.

"It may be that I will have something further to report this
evening," he told Mr. Latham. "If not, I'll see you to-morrow,
here."

He went out. Ten minutes later he was talking to a friend in police
headquarters, over the telephone. The records there showed that the
license for the particular cab he had followed had been issued to one
William Johns. He was usually to be found around the cabstand in
Madison Square, and lived in Charlton Street.

CHAPTER VI

THE MYSTERIOUS WOMAN

Mr. Birnes' busy heels fairly spurned the pavements of Fifth Avenue
as he started toward Madison Square. Here was a long line of cabs
drawn up beside the curb, some twenty or thirty in all. The fifth
from the end bore the number he sought--Mr. Birnes chuckled; and
there, alongside it, stood William Johns, swapping Billingsgate with
the driver of a hansom, the while he kept one eye open for a
prospective fare. It was too easy! Mr. Birnes paused long enough
to congratulate himself upon his marvelous acumen, and then he
approached the driver.

"You are William Johns?" he accused him sharply.

"That's me, Cap," the cabby answered readily.

"A few minutes past four o'clock this afternoon you went up Fifth
Avenue, and stopped at the corner of Thirty-fourth Street to pick up
a fare--a young man."

"Yep."

"You drove him to the corner of Sixty-seventh Street and Fifth
Avenue," the detective went on just to forestall possible denials.
"He got out there, paid you, and you went on up Fifth Avenue."

"Far be it from me to deceive you, Cap," responded the cabby with
irritating levity. "I done that same."

"Who was that man?" demanded Mr. Birnes coldly.

"Search me! I never seen him before."

The detective regarded the cabby with accusing eyes. Then, quite
casually, he flipped open his coat and Johns caught a glimpse of
a silver shield. It might only have been accident, of course,
still--

"Now, Johns, who was the man in the cab when you stopped to pick up
the second man at Thirty-fourth Street?"

"Wrong,