tective. "I guess you don't know New York. But
if you've got a grouch against this scheme we'll try the other one.
It's a sure thing. But it'll cost you more."

"Never mind the expense," said Meeks; "we'll try it."

The sleuth led him back to the Waldorf. "Engage a couple of bedrooms
and a parlour," he advised, "and let's go up."

This was done, and the two were shown to a superb suite on the fourth
floor. Meeks looked puzzled. The detective sank into a velvet
armchair, and pulled out his cigar case.

"I forgot to suggest, old man," he said, "that you should have taken
the rooms by the month. They wouldn't have stuck you so much for 'em.

"By the month!" exclaimed Meeks. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, it'll take time to work the game this way. I told you it would
cost you more. We'll have to wait till spring. There'll be a new city
directory out then. Very likely your sister's name and address will be
in it."

Meeks rid himself of the city detective at once. On the next day some
one advised him to consult Shamrock Jolnes, New York's famous private
detective, who demanded fabulous fees, but performed miracles in the
way of solving mysteries and crimes.

After waiting for two hours in the anteroom of the great detective's
apartment, Meeks was shown into his presence. Jolnes sat in a purple
dressing-gown at an inlaid ivory chess table, with a magazine before
him, trying to solve the mystery of "They." The famous sleuth's thin,
intellectual face, piercing eyes, and rate per word are too well known
to need description.

Meeks set forth his errand. "My fee, if successful, will be $500,"
said Shamrock Jolnes.

Meeks bowed his agreement to the price.

"I will undertake your case, Mr. Meeks," said Jolnes, finally. "The
disappearance of people in this city has always been an interesting
problem to me. I remember a case that I brought to a successful
outcome a year ago. A family bearing the name of Clark disappeared
suddenly from a small flat in which they were living. I watched the
flat building for two months for a clue. One day it struck me that a
certain milkman and a grocer's boy always walked backward when they
carried their wares upstairs. Following out by induction the idea that
this observation gave me, I at once located the missing family. They
had moved into the flat across the hall and changed their name to
Kralc."

Shamrock Jolnes and his client went to the tenement house where Mary
Snyder had lived, and th