ad hoped it
might be the same map. It might have told us something."

Suddenly Curlie was struck with an idea. Leaving the girl's side, he
approached the librarian.

"Have any of these maps been photographed recently?" he asked in a low
tone.

"Not for several years," she answered. "But there are reproductions of
these and others. They're in a bound volume in the next room. There the
maps are reproduced on a large scale and a description of each is given.
The lady in charge will show you."

Curlie tiptoed into that room. He was soon turning the pages of a large
book which resembled an atlas.

After studying each successive page for some time, he came to a halt
with a suppressed exclamation.

There, staring up at him, was a reproduction of the very map which had
been photographed for Vincent Ardmore and, if further proof were
lacking, there on the opposite page was a reproduction of the writing
on the back of it, with a translation in fine print below.

Hurriedly he read this translation through. Twice he paused in utter
astonishment. Three times he wrote down a brief note on a scrap of
paper. When he had finished, he looked at the lower left-hand corner of
the map, then copied some figures reproduced there.

Closing the book quickly, as if afraid the girl would find him looking
at it, he paused for a second to banish all sign of excitement from his
face, then walked leisurely from the room.

"Find anything?" he asked in as quiet a tone as he could command.

"No," there was a tired and worried look in her eyes. "I'm afraid the
map is not here."

"By the way," he said in a casual way, "does your brother happen to have
a pal living at Landensport on the coast?"

"Why, yes," she said quickly, "that's Alfred Brightwood. They were chums
in Brimward Academy."

"I thought that might be so."

"And you think--think--" she faltered.

"What we think," he smiled a disarming smile, "doesn't count for much.
It's facts which really matter. Excuse me; I'll be back in a moment," he
said hurriedly. "Want to telephone."

In the booth of the library he conversed long and earnestly with his
chief.

"Why, yes," came over the phone at last, "I don't see but that you had
better finish the thing up. We can't let rich young offenders off
easily. It would destroy the service entirely. Go ahead. Coles Masters
can handle the station while you are away."

The interview ended, he got Joe Marion on the wire.

"Joe," he said hu