The Amazing Adventures of Lester Leith

The Exact Opposite

There was a glint of amusement in the eyes of Lester Leith as he lazily surveyed the valet, who was in reality no valet at all, but a police undercover operative sent by Sergeant Ackley to spy upon him.

“And so you don’t like fanatical East Indian priests, Scuttle?”

“No, sir,” he said. “I should hate to have them on my trail.”

Lester Leith took a cigarette from the humidor and flicked his lighter.

“Scuttle,” he said, “why the devil should Indian priests be on anyone’s trail?”

“If I were to tell you, sir, you’d think that I was trying to interest you in another crime. As a matter of fact, sir, it was a crime which caused me to voice that sentiment about East Indian priests.”

“Indeed?” said Lester Leith.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “I was thinking about the murder of George Navin.”

Lester Leith looked reproachfully at the spy.

“Scuttle,” he said, “is it possible that you are trying to interest me in that crime?”

“No, sir, not at all,” the spy made haste to reassure him. “Although if you were interested in the crime, sir, I am satisfied that this is a case made to order for you.”

Lester Leith shook his head.

“No, Scuttle,” he said. “Much as I like to dabble in crime problems, I don’t care to let myself go on them. You see, Scuttle, it’s a mental pastime with me. I like to read newspaper accounts of crimes and speculate on what might be a solution.”

“Yes, sir,” said the spy. “This is just the sort of a crime that you used to like to speculate about, sir.”

Lester Leith sighed. “No, Scuttle,” he said. “I really don’t dare to do it. You see, Scuttle, Sergeant Ackley learned about that fad of mine, and he insists that I am some sort of a super-criminal who goes about hijacking robbers out of their ill-gotten spoils. There’s nothing that I can do to convince the man that he is wrong. Therefore, I have found it necessary to give up my fad.”

“Well,” said the valet, “of course, sir, Sergeant Ackley doesn’t need to know everything that happens in the privacy of your own apartment, sir.”

Lester Leith shook his head sadly. “One would think so, Scuttle, and yet Sergeant Ackley seems to have some uncanny knowledge of what I am thinking about.”

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Have you read anything about the murder of George Navin?”

Lester Leith frowned. “Wasn’t he mixed up with some kind of a gem robbery, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir,” said the spy eagerly. “He was an explorer, and he had explored extensively in the Indian jungle. Perhaps you’ve heard something about those jungle temples, sir?”

“What about them, Scuttle?”

“India,” the spy said, “is a land of wealth, of gold and rubies. In some of the primitive jungle districts the inhabitants lavish their wealth on idols. Back in a hidden part of the jungle, in a sect known as the Sivaites, there was a huge temple devoted to Vinayaka, the Prince of Evil Spirits, and in that temple was a beautiful ruby, the size of a pigeon egg, set in a gold border which had Sanskrit letters carved in it.”

Lester Leith said: “Scuttle, you’re arousing my curiosity.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Leith said: “Well, we won’t discuss it any more, Scuttle. The way these things go, one thing leads to another, and then— But tell me one thing: is George Navin supposed to have had that gem?”

“Yes, sir. He managed to get it from the temple, although he never admitted it, but in one of his books dealing with some of the peculiar religious sects in India, there’s a photographic illustration of this gem — and authorities claim that it would have been absolutely impossible to have photographed it in the temple, that Navin must have managed to get possession of the ruby and brought it to this country.”

Lester Leith said: “Wasn’t that illustration reproduced in one of the newspapers after Navin’s death?”

“Yes, sir. I have it here, sir.”

The spy reached inside the pocket of his coat and pulled out a clipping.

Leith hesitated, then reluctantly took it. “I shouldn’t look at this. But I’m going to, Scuttle. After that, don’t tell me any more about it.”

“Very well, sir.”

Leith looked at the newspaper illustration. “There’d be a better reproduction in Navin’s book, Scuttle?”

“Oh, yes, sir — a full-sized photograph.”

Leith said: “And, as I gather it, Scuttle, the Hindu priests objected to the spoliation of the temple?”

“Very much, sir. It seems they attached some deep religious significance to the stone. You may remember four or five months ago, shortly after the book was published, there was an attempted robbery of Navin’s house. Navin shot a man with a.45 automatic.”

“An East Indian?”

“Yes, sir,” said the spy. “A Hindu priest of the particular sect which had maintained the jungle temple.”

Leith said: “Well, that’s enough, Scuttle. I don’t want to hear anything more about it. You’d have thought Navin would have taken precautions.”

“Oh, but he did, sir. He hired a bodyguard — a chap named Arthur Blaire and a detective, Ed Springer. They were with him all the time.”

“Just the three of them in the house?” Lester Leith asked.

“No, sir. There were four. There was a Robert Lamont, a confidential secretary.”

“Accompanying Navin on his travels?” Leith asked.

The spy nodded.

“Any servants?” Leith asked.

“Only a housekeeper who came in and worked by the day.”

Leith frowned and then said: “Scuttle, don’t answer this if it’s going to arouse my curiosity any more. But how the devil could a man get murdered if he had two bodyguards and his secretary with him all the time?”

“That, sir, is the thing the police can’t understand. Mr. Navin slept in a room which was considered virtually burglar-proof. There were steel shutters on the windows, and a door which locked with a combination, and there was a guard on duty outside of the door all night.”

“How did he get ventilation?”

“Through some ventilating system which was installed, and which permitted a circulation of air but wouldn’t permit anyone to gain access to the room, sir.”

“Don’t go on, Scuttle,” he said. “I simply mustn’t hear about it.”

“But, sir,” said the spy wheedlingly, “you have heard so much now that it certainly wouldn’t hurt to go on and have your natural curiosity satisfied.”

Leith sighed. “Very well, Scuttle,” he said. “What happened?”

The spy spoke rapidly. “Navin went to bed, sir. Blaire and Springer, the bodyguards, made the rounds of the room, making certain that the steel shutters were locked on the inside, and that the windows were closed and locked. That was about ten o’clock at night. About ten forty Bob Lamont, the secretary, received an important telegram which he wanted to take up to Mr. Navin. He had the bodyguards open the door, and call Navin softly to find out if he was asleep. Navin was sitting up in bed reading.

“They were in there for fifteen or twenty minutes. The guards don’t know exactly what happened, because they sat outside on guard, but apparently it was, as Lamont says, just an ordinary business conference. Then Lamont came out, and the guards closed the door. About midnight Arthur Blaire retired, and Ed Springer kept the first watch until four o’clock in the morning. At four, Blaire came on and relieved Springer, and at nine o’clock the secretary came in with the morning mail.

“That was part of the custom, sir. The secretary was the first to go into the room with the morning mail, and he discussed it while Mr. Navin tubbed and shaved:

“The guard opened the door, and Lamont went in.

“The guard heard him say, ‘Good morning,’ to Mr. Navin, and walk across the room to open the shutters. Then suddenly he heard Lamont give an exclamation.

“George Navin had been murdered by having his throat cut. Everything in the room had been ransacked; even the furniture had been taken to pieces.”

Lester Leith made no attempt to disguise his interest now.

“What time was the crime committed, Scuttle?” he asked. “The autopsy surgeon could tell that.”

“Yes, sir,” said the spy. “At approximately four A.M., sir.”

“How did the murderer get into the room?” asked Lester Leith.

“There, sir,” said the valet, “is where the police are baffled. The windows were all closed, and the shutters were all locked on the inside.”

“And the murder was committed at just about the time the guards were being changed, eh?” said Lester Leith.

“Yes, sir,” said the valet.

“So that either one of the guards might be suspected, eh, Scuttle?” The valet said: “As a matter of fact, sir, both of them are under suspicion. But they have excellent references.”

“Well,” said Lester Leith, “did the murderer get the ruby, Scuttle?”

“Well, sir, the ruby wasn’t in that bedroom at all. The ruby was kept in a specially constructed safe which was in a secret hiding place in the house. No one knew of the existence of that safe, with the exception of George Navin and the two bodyguards. Also, of course, the secretary. Naturally, after discovering the murder, the men went immediately to the safe and opened it. They found that the stone was gone. The police have been unable to find any fingerprints on the safe, but they did discover something else which is rather mystifying.

“The police are satisfied that the murderer entered through one of the windows on the east side of the room. There are tracks in the soft soil of the garden beneath the window, and there are the round marks embedded in the soil where the ends of a bamboo ladder were placed on the ground.”

“Bamboo, eh, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir. That, of course, would indicate that the murderers were Indian, sir.”

“But,” said Lester Leith, “how could they get through a steel shutter locked on the inside, murder a man, get out through a window, close the window, and leave the shutter still locked on the inside?”

“That is the point, sir.”

“Then,” said Lester Leith, “the bodyguards weren’t mixed up in it. If they were mixed up in it, they would have let the murderer come in through the door.

“But,” went on Lester Leith, “there is no evidence as to how the murderer could have secured the gem.”

“That’s quite true, sir.”

“What are the police doing?”

“The police are questioning all the men. That is, sir, the servants and the bodyguards. Lamont left the house right after talking with Navin, and went to a secret conference with Navin’s attorney, a man by the name of During. During had his stenographer there, a young lady named Edith Skinner, so that Lamont can account for every minute of his time.”

“Do I understand that the conference lasted all night?”

“Yes, sir. The conference was very important. It had to do with certain legal matters in connection with income tax and publishing rights.”

“But that’s such an unusual time for a conference,” said Lester Leith.

“Yes, sir,” said the valet, “but it couldn’t be helped. Mr. Lamont was very busy with Mr. Navin. It seems that Navin was rather a peculiar individual, and he demanded a great deal of attention. As soon as the lawyer said that the examination of the records and things would take a period of over eight hours, Navin made so much trouble that Lamont finally agreed to work all one night.”

“What time did Lamont leave the conference?” asked Leith.

“About eight o’clock in the morning. They went down to breakfast, and then Lamont drove out to the house in time to get the morning mail ready for Mr. Navin.”

“The police, of course, are coming down pretty hard on Blaire and Springer, eh, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir, because it would have been almost impossible for anyone to have entered that room without the connivance of one of the watchmen. And then again, sir, the fact that the murder was timed to take place when the watchmen were changing their shift would seem to indicate that either Blaire was a party to the crime, and fixed the time so that he could put the blame on Springer, or that Springer was the guilty one, and had committed the crime just as soon as he came on duty so that suspicion would attach to Blaire.”

“Rather a neat problem, I should say,” said Lester Leith. “One that will keep Sergeant Ackley busy.”

“Yes, sir,” said the valet, “and it just goes to show how ingenious the Hindus are.”

“Yes,” said Lester Leith dreamily, “it’s a very ingenious murder — save for one thing.”

The valet’s eyes glistened with eagerness.

“What,” he asked, “is that one thing, sir?”

“No, no, Scuttle,” he said. “If I should tell you, that would be violating the pact which I have made with myself. I have determined that I wouldn’t work out any more academic crime solutions.”

“I would like very much, sir,” said the valet coaxingly, “to know what that one thing is.”

Lester Leith took a deep breath.

“No, Scuttle,” he said. “Do not tempt me.”

Lester Leith reclined in the long chair, his feet crossed on the cushions, his eyes watching the cigarette smoke.

“Do you know, Scuttle,” he said, almost dreamily, “I am tempted to conduct an experiment.”

“An experiment, sir?”

“Yes,” said Lester Leith. “A psychological experiment. It would, however, require certain things. I would want three fifty-dollar bills and fifty one-dollar bills, Scuttle. I would want a diamond tiepin, an imitation of the ruby which was stolen from Navin’s house, and a very attractive chorus girl.”

Edward H. Beaver, undercover man who was working directly under Sergeant Arthur Ackley, but who was known to Lester Leith as “Scuttle,” surveyed the police sergeant across the battered top of the desk at Headquarters.

Sergeant Ackley blinked his crafty eyes at the undercover man and said: “Give me that list again, Beaver.”

“Three fifty-dollar bills, fifty one-dollar bills, a large diamond stick-pin, an imitation of the ruby which was stolen, and a chorus girl.”

Sergeant Ackley slammed the pencil down.

“He was taking you for a ride,” he said.

The undercover man shook his head stubbornly.

“No, he wasn’t,” he said. “It’s just the way he works. Every time he starts on one of his hijacking escapades, he asks for a bunch of stuff that seems so absolutely crazy there’s no sense to it. But every time so far those things have all turned out to be part of a carefully laid plan which results in victory for Leith and defeat for the crooks — and for us.”

Sergeant Ackley made a gesture of emphatic dismissal.

“Beaver,” he said, “the man is simply stringing you along this time. He couldn’t possibly use these things to connect up this crime. As a matter of fact, we have evidence now which indicates very strongly that the crime was actually committed by three Hindus. We’ve got a straight tip from a stool pigeon who is covering the Hindu section here.”

The spy insisted: “It doesn’t make any difference, Sergeant, whether or not Hindus committed the crime. I’m telling you that Lester Leith is serious about this, and that he’s going to use these things to work out a solution that will leave him in possession of that ruby.”

“No,” went on Sergeant Ackley, “you have overplayed your hand, Beaver. You went too far trying to get him to take an interest in this crime.”

“But,” protested the harassed spy, “what else could I do? Every time he pulls a job, you come down on him, triumphantly certain that you’ve cornered him at last, and every time he squirms out of the corner and leaves you holding the sack. As a result, he knows that you have some method of finding out what he is doing all the time. It’s a wonder to me that he doesn’t suspect me.”

“Well,” said Sergeant Ackley coldly, “you don’t need to wonder any more, Beaver, because he does suspect you. He wouldn’t have given you all this line of hooey unless he did.”

“If it’s hooey,” snapped Beaver, “he’s spending a lot of money.”

“How do you mean?”

Beaver unfolded the morning paper which lay on the sergeant’s desk.

“Take a look at the Classified Advertising Section,” he said.

“Wanted: A young woman of pleasing personality and attractive looks, who has had at least three years experience on the stage in a chorus, preferably in a musical comedy or burlesque. She must have been out of work for at least eight months.”

“And here’s another one,” said Beaver, and he pointed to another ad.

“Wanted: Ambitious young man to learn detective work at my expense. Must be a man who has had no previous experience and who knows nothing of routine police procedure. I want to train a detective who has a fresh outlook, entirely untrammeled by conventional ideas of police routine. All expenses will be paid, in addition to a generous salary. Preferably someone who has recently arrived from a rural community.”

Sergeant Ackley sat back in his chair. “I’ll be—”

“Now, then,” said the spy, “if he doesn’t intend to do something about that Navin murder, what the devil does he want to go to all this trouble for?”

“It doesn’t make sense, Beaver,” Ackley said. “No matter how you look at it, it’s crazy.”

The spy shrugged his shoulders.

“Perhaps,” he said, “that’s why he’s always so successful.”

“How do you mean, Beaver?”

“Because his stuff doesn’t make sense, Sergeant. It’s unconventional and so absolutely unique, there’s no precedent to help you.” Sergeant Ackley fished a cigar from his waistcoat pocket. “Beaver,” he said, “the real standard of a good detective is his ability to separate the wheat from the chaff. Now, I’m willing to admit that Leith has done some crazy things before, and they’ve always worked out. But this is once it won’t happen.”

“Well,” said the undercover man, getting to his feet, “you can have it your own way, but I’m willing to bet he’s up to something. I’ll bet you fifty dollars against that watch that you’re so proud of.”

Cupidity glittered in Sergeant Ackley’s eyes. “Bet me what?”

“Bet you,” said Beaver, “that he uses every one of these things to work out a scheme by which he lifts that Indian ruby, and does it all so cleverly that you can’t pin anything on him.”

Sergeant Ackley’s broad hand smacked down on the top of the desk.

“Beaver,” he said, “your language verges on insubordination. Just by way of disciplining you, I am going to take that bet. Fifty dollars against my watch.

“However, Beaver, if he is going to use other means to catch that murderer and hijack the ruby, the bet is off. He’s got to do it by these particular means.”

“That’s the bet,” said Beaver.

“And you’ve got to keep me posted as to everything that he’s doing, so that if he should use all of the stuff as a smokescreen and try to get the ruby under cover of all this hooey, we can still catch him.”

“Certainly,” said the undercover man.

Lester Leith smiled urbanely at his valet. “Scuttle,” he said, “this is Miss Dixie Dormley, and Mr. Harry Vare. Miss Dormley is a young woman who is doing some special work for me. She has had rather extensive stage experience, but has recently been out of work. In the position that I want her to fill, it will be necessary that she have some rather striking clothes, and I want you to go around with her to the various shops, let her pick out what clothing she desires, and see that it is charged to me.”

The valet blinked his eyes.

“Very good, sir,” he said. “What is the limit in regard to price, sir?”

“No limit, Scuttle. Also, I have arranged for Miss Dormley to have the apartment next to us, temporarily,” said Lester Leith. “She will live there — the one on the left.”

“Yes, sir,” said the valet.

“And Mr. Harry Vare,” said Lester Leith, “is the fortunate young man who has won the free scholarship in my school of deductive reasoning.”

The valet stared at Harry Vare.

Vare met that stare with eyes that were hard and appraising. He narrowed the lids and scrutinized the undercover operative as though he were trying to hypnotize the man.

“Harry Vare,” said Lester Leith suavely, “is a young man from the country who has recently come to the city in search of some employment which would be worthy of his talents. He felt that he had outgrown the small town in which he lived. He is possessed of that first essential for detective work — an imagination which makes him see an ulterior motive in every action, a crime in every set of circumstances.”

The undercover operative was dignified.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, “but as I understand it, sir, most of the real detectives are somewhat the other way. They regard it as a business, sir.”

Lester Leith shook his head.

“No, Scuttle,” he said. “Sergeant Ackley is one of the shrewdest detectives that I know, and you must admit, Scuttle, that he has one of those imaginations which makes him see a crime in everything.”

The girl looked from face to face with a twinkle in her eyes. She was a beautiful woman.

“Mr. Vare,” said Lester Leith, “will have the apartment on the right — the one adjoining us. He will be domiciled there temporarily, Scuttle.”

“Yes, sir,” said the valet. May I ask, what are the duties of these persons?”

“Mr. Vare is going to be a detective,” said Lester Leith gravely. “He will detect.”

“What will he detect?”

“That is the interesting part of having a professional detective about, Scuttle. One never knows what he is going to detect. There is Sergeant Ackley, for instance. He detects so many things which seem utterly unreasonable at the time, and then, after mature investigation and reflection, they seem to have an entirely different complexion.”

The spy cleared his throat.

“And the young lady, sir?”

“Miss Dormley,” said Lester Leith, “will engage in dramatic acting upon the stage which was so well described by Shakespeare.”

“What stage is that?” asked the undercover man.

“The world,” said Lester Leith.

“Very good, sir,” the valet said. “And when do I start on this shopping tour?”

“Immediately,” said Lester Leith. “And by the way, Scuttle, did you get me the money and the diamond stick-pin?”

The valet opened a box which he took from his pocket.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “You wanted rather a large diamond with something of a fault in it, something that wasn’t too expensive, I believe you said.”

“Yes,” said Lester Leith. “That’s right, Scuttle.”

“This is sent on approval,” said the valet. “The price tag is on the pin, sir.”

Lester Leith looked at the diamond pin, and whistled.

“Rather a low price, Scuttle,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” said the valet. “There’s quite a flaw in the diamond, although it doesn’t appear until you examine it closely.”

“And the money?”

“Yes, sir,” said the valet, and took from his pocket a sheaf of bank notes.

Lester Leith gravely arranged them so that the fifties were on the outside. Then he rolled them and snapped the roll with an elastic.

Lester Leith turned to Vare.

“Vare,” he said, “are you ready to start detecting?”

“I thought I was going to be given a course of instruction,” he said.

“You are,” said Lester Leith, “but you are going to learn by a new method. You know, they used to teach law by reading out of law books, and then they decided that that wasn’t the proper way to give the pupils instruction. They switched to what is known as the case method — that is, Vare, they read cases to them and let the students delve into the reported cases until they found the legal principles which had been applied to the facts.”

“Yes, sir,” said Vare.

“That is the way you are going to learn detective work,” said Lester Leith. “By the case method. Are you ready to start?”

Vare nodded.

Lester Leith removed the tiepin from his tie, placed it on the table, and inserted the diamond stickpin.

“Very well, Vare,” he said. “Get your hat and come with me. You are about to receive the first lesson.”

There was the usual crowd in front of the ticket windows of the big railroad station. Everywhere there was noise, bustle, and confusion.

“Now,” said Lester Leith to Harry Vare, “keep about twenty feet behind me and watch sharply. See if you can find anyone who looks like a crook.”

Vare cocked a professional eye at the crowd.

“They all look like crooks,” he said.

Lester Leith nodded gravely.

“Vare,” he said, “you are showing the true detective instincts. But I want you to pick out someone who looks like a crook we can pin something definite on.”

“I don’t see exactly what you mean,” said Vare.

“You will,” said Lester Leith. “Just follow me.”

Lester Leith pushed his way through the crowd, with Vare tagging along behind him. From time to time Lester Leith pulled out the roll of bills and counted them, apparently anxious to see that they were safe. Then he snapped the elastic back on the roll and pushed it back in his pocket.

Leith kept in the most congested portions of the big depot.

Twice he was bumped into, and each time by a sad-faced individual with mournful eyes and a drooping mouth.

The man was garbed in a dark suit, and his tie was conservative. Everything about him blended into a single drab personality which would attract no attention.

Finally, Lester Leith walked to a closed ticket window, where there was a little elbow room.

“Well, Vare,” he said, “did you see anyone?”

Vare said: “Well, I saw several that looked like crooks, but I couldn’t see anyone that I could pick out as being a certain particular crook. That is, I couldn’t find any proof.”

Lester Leith put his hand in his pocket, and then suddenly jumped backwards.

“Robbed!” he said.

Vare stared at him with sagging jaw.

“Robbed?” he asked.

“Robbed,” said Lester Leith. “My money — it’s gone!”

He pulled his hand from his trousers pocket, and disclosed a slit which had been cut in the cloth so that the contents of the pocket could be reached from the outside.

“Pickpockets,” said Harry Vare.

“And you didn’t discover them,” Leith said.

Vare fidgeted uneasily.

“There was quite a crowd,” he said, “and of course I couldn’t see everything.”

Lester Leith shook his head sadly.

“I can’t give you a high mark on the first lesson, Vare,” he said. “Now let’s take a cab and go home.”

“Your tiepin is safe, anyway,” said Vare.

Lester Leith gave a sudden start, reached his hand to his tie, and pulled out the diamond scarf-pin.

He looked at the diamond and nodded, then suddenly pointed to the pin.

“Look,” he said, “the man tried to take it off with nippers. You can see where they left their mark on the pin. I must have pulled away just as he was doing it, so that he didn’t get a chance to get the diamond.”

Vare’s eyes were large; his face showed consternation.

“Really,” said Lester Leith, “you have had two lessons in one, and I can’t give you a high mark on either. You should have detected the person who was putting nippers on my pin.”

Vare looked crestfallen.

Leith said: “Oh, well, you can’t expect to become a first-class detective overnight. That’s one of the things that training is for. But we’ll go back to the apartment and I’ll change my clothes, and you can sit back and concentrate for an hour or two on what you saw, and see if you can remember anything significant.”

But a little later Lester Leith returned to the depot — alone. Once more he mingled with the crowd, moving aimlessly about, but this time his eyes were busy scanning the faces of the stream of people.

He noticed the man in the dark suit with the mournful countenance, moving aimlessly about, a newspaper in his hands, his manner that of one who is waiting patiently for a wife who was to have met him an hour ago.

Lester Leith walked behind this man, keeping him in sight.

After some fifteen minutes, Leith shortened the distance between them and tapped the man sharply on the shoulder.

“I want to talk with you,” he said.

The man’s face changed expression. The look of mournful listlessness vanished, and the eyes became hard and wary.

“You ain’t got nothing on me.”

Lester Leith laughed.

“On the contrary,” he said, “you have got something of mine on you — a roll of bills with some fifties on the outside and dollar bills in between. Also, you have the scarf-pin which you just nipped from that fat gentleman with the scarlet tie.”

The man backed away, and turned as though getting ready to run.

Lester Leith said: “I’m not a detective. I just want to talk with you. In fact, I want to employ you.”

The pickpocket looked at him with eyes that were wide with surprise.

“Employ me?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Lester Leith. “I have been strolling around here all afternoon looking for a good pickpocket.”

“I’m not a pickpocket,” said the man.

Lester Leith paid no attention to the man’s protestation of innocence.

“I am,” he said, “running a school for young detectives. I want to employ you as an assistant instructor. I have an idea that the ordinary training of police officers and detectives is exceedingly haphazard. I am looking for. someone who can give my students an education in picking pockets.”

“What’s the pay?”

“Well,” said Lester Leith, “you can keep the watch that you got from the tall thin man, the scarf-pin which you nipped from the fleshy man, and you can keep the roll of bills which you cut from my trousers pocket. In addition to that, you will draw regular compensation of one hundred dollars a day, and if you feel like risking your liberty, you can keep anything which you can pick up on the side.”

“How do you mean, ‘on the side’?”

“By the practice of your profession, of course,” said Lester Leith.

The pickpocket stared at him.

“This,” he said, “is some kind of a smart game to get me to commit myself.”

Lester Leith reached to his inside pocket and took out a well-filled wallet. He opened the wallet, and the startled eyes of the pickpocket caught sight of a number of one-hundred-dollar bills.

Gravely Lester Leith took out one of these hundred-dollar bills and extended it to the pickpocket.

“This,” he said, “is the first day’s salary.”

The man took the one-hundred-dollar bill, and his eyes followed the wallet as Lester Leith returned it to his pocket.

“Okay, boss,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just meet me,” said Lester Leith, “at certain regular times and places. Your first job will be to meet me here at nine thirty tonight. I will write a bunch of instructions on a piece of paper, and put that piece of paper in my coat pocket. You can slip the paper out of the coat pocket and follow instructions. Don’t let on that you know me at all, unless I should speak to you first.”

The pickpocket nodded

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be here at nine thirty. In the meantime, I’ll walk as far as your taxicab with you and talk over details. My name is Sid Bentley. What’s yours?”

“Leith,” Lester Leith told him.

“Pleased to meet you.”

After they had finished shaking hands, Lester Leith started toward the taxicab and Bentley walked on his right side, talking rapidly.

“I don’t know how you made me, Leith,” he said, “but you can believe it or not, it’s the first time I’ve ever been picked up by anybody. I used to be a sleight-of-hand artist on the stage, and then when business got bad, I decided to go out and start work. I haven’t a criminal record and the police haven’t got a thing on me.”

“That’s fine,” beamed Lester Leith. “You’re exactly the man I want. I’ll meet you here at nine thirty, eh, Bentley?”

“Nine thirty it is, Captain.”

Lester Leith hailed a taxicab. As it swung into the circle in front of the depot, he turned casually to the pickpocket.

“By the way, Bentley,” he said, “please don’t use that knife. You’ve already ruined one good suit for me.”

As Lester Leith spoke, his left hand shot out and clamped around the wrist of the pickpocket. The light gleamed on the blade of a razor-like knife with which Bentley had been about to cut Lester Leith’s coat.

Bentley looked chagrined for a moment, and then sighed.

“You said that it’d be all right for me to pick up anything I could on the side, Captain,” he protested.

Lester Leith grinned.

“Well,” he said, “I had better amplify that. You can pick up anything you can on the side, provided you leave my pockets alone.”

Bentley matched Lester Leith’s grin.

“Okay, Captain,” he said. “That’s a go.”

Lester Leith climbed in the taxicab and returned to his apartment.

A vision of loveliness greeted him as he opened the door. Dixie Dormley had adorned herself in garments which looked as though they had been tailored to order in the most exclusive shops.

She smiled a welcome to Lester Leith.

“I kept the cost as low as I could,” she said, “in order to get the effect that you wanted.”

“You certainly got the effect,” complimented Lester Leith, staring at her with very evident approval. “Yes, I think you have done very well, indeed, and we will all go to dinner tonight — the four of us. You, Miss Dormley, Mr. Vare, and, Scuttle, I’m going to include you too.”

The spy blinked his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“By the way,” said Lester Leith, “did you have the imitation ruby made?”

The spy nodded.

“It’s rather a swell affair,” he said, “so far as the ruby is concerned. The gold setting is rather cleverly done too. The jeweler insisted upon doing it in a very soft gold. He said that the Indian gold was very yellow and very soft, without much alloy in it. He’s duplicated the border design very accurately.”

“Quite right, Scuttle,” said Lester Leith. “The man knows what he is doing. Let’s see it.”

The spy handed Lester Leith a little casket, which Leith opened.

The girl exclaimed in admiration.

“Good heavens,” she said, “it looks genuine!”

Lester Leith nodded. “It certainly does,” he said. “They are able to make excellent imitations of rubies these days.”

He lifted the imitation jewel from the case and dropped it carelessly in his side pocket.

“All right, Dixie,” he said. “If you’ll dress for dinner, we’ll leave rather early. I have an important appointment at nine thirty. By the way, I don’t want either of you to mention to a living soul that this ruby is an imitation.”

At dinner that evening Lester Leith was in rare form. He was suave and courteous, acting very much the gentleman, and discharging his duties as host. It was when the dessert had been cleared away that Leith gravely surveyed Harry Vare’s countenance.

“Vare,” he said, “you have had your first lesson this afternoon. Do you think that you have profited by it?”

Vare flushed.

“I’ll say one thing,” he said, “no pickpocket will ever get near you again as long as I’m around.”

Lester Leith nodded.

“That’s fine,” he said. “Now then, I have a rather valuable bauble here that I want to have guarded carefully. I am going to ask you to put it in your pocket.”

And Lester Leith slipped from his pocket the imitation ruby and passed it across the table to Vare.

Vare gave a gasp, and his eyes bulged.

“Good heavens,” he said, “this is worth a fortune!”

Leith shrugged. “I am making no comments, Vare,” he said, “on its value. It is merely something which is entrusted to you for safekeeping, as a part of your training in detective work.”

Vare slipped the gem hurriedly into his pocket.

Lester Leith caught the eye of the waiter and secured the check, which he paid.

“I want you folks to take a little walk with me,” he said. “Vare is going to have another lesson as a detective, and I would like to have all of you present.”

The spy was plainly ill at ease.

“You want me there also, sir?” he asked.

“Certainly,” said Lester Leith.

“Very well, sir,” said the spy.

Leith helped the young woman on with her wraps, saw that she was seated comfortably in the taxicab, and told the driver to take them to the depot.

The spy stared at him curiously.

“You’re leaving town, sir?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” said Lester Leith. “We’re just going down to the depot, and I’m going to walk around the way I did this afternoon. Vare is going to see that my pocket isn’t picked.”

There was not as large a crowd in the depot at night, and Lester Leith had some difficulty in finding a crowd of sufficient density to suit his purpose. In his side pocket was a note:

“The young man who is following me around has an imitation ruby in his pocket. He is watching me to make certain that no one picks my pocket. See if you can get the ruby from him, and after you have it, return it to me later.”

Bentley, the pickpocket, stood on the outskirts of a crowd of people who were waiting in line at a ticket window, and gave Lester Leith a significant glance. Leith gestured toward his pocket.

Leith pushed his way into the crowd, and, as he did so, felt Bentley’s fingers slip the printed instructions from his pocket.

Thereafter, Lester Leith wandered aimlessly about the depot, until suddenly he heard a choked cry from Harry Vare.

Lester Leith turned and retraced his steps to the young man, who was standing with a sickly gray countenance, his eyes filled with despair.

“What is it?” asked Lester Leith.

Vare indicated a gaping cut down the side of his coat and through his vest.

“I put that gem in the inside of my vest,” he said, “where I knew that it would be safe from pickpockets, and look what happened!”

Lester Leith summoned the undercover man.

“Scuttle,” he said, “will you notice what has happened? This young man whom I was training to be a detective has allowed the property with which I entrusted him to be stolen.”

The valet blinked.

“I didn’t see anyone, sir,” he said, “and I was keeping my own eye peeled.”

“Scuttle,” Lester Leith said, “I am going to ask you to take Vare back to his apartment. Let him sit down and meditate carefully for two hours upon everything that happened and every face he saw while he was here at the depot. I want to see if he can possibly identify the man who is guilty of picking his pocket.”

Vare said humbly: “I’m afraid, sir, that you picked a poor student.” Lester Leith smiled.

“Tut, tut, Vare,” he said, “that’s something for me to determine. I told you that I was going to give you an education, and I am. You’re getting a free scholarship as well as wages. So don’t worry about it. Go on to your apartment, and sit down and concentrate.”

Vare said: “It certainly is wonderful of you to take the thing this way.”

“That’s all right, Vare.”

As the undercover man took Vare’s arm and piloted him toward a taxicab, Lester Leith turned to Dixie Dormley with a smile.

“I’ve got to meet a party here in a few minutes,” he said, “and then we can go and dance.”

They continued to hang around the depot for fifteen or twenty minutes. Lester Leith began to frown and to consult his wrist watch. Suddenly Sid Bentley, the pickpocket, materialized through one of the doorways and hurried toward them.

“It’s okay,” he said.

Leith frowned at him.

“You took long enough doing it,” he said.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” Bentley said, “but there was one thing that I had to do. You should have figured it out yourself, Chief.”

“What was that?”

“I had to go to a good fence and make sure that the thing I had was an imitation,” said Bentley.

“Well,” Leith said, “there’s nothing like being frank.”

“That’s the way I figure it, Chief,” he said. “You know, I’ve got a duty to you, but I’ve got a duty to my profession, too. I certainly would have been a dumb hick to have had my hands on a fortune and let it slip.”

Lester Leith felt the weight of the jewel in his pocket. He nodded and turned away.

“That’s all right, Bentley,” he said. “You meet me here tomorrow night at seven o’clock, and in the meantime there won’t be anything more for you unless I should get in touch with you. Can you give me a telephone number where I can get in touch with you if I should need you?”

The pickpocket reached in his pocket and took out a card.

“Here you are, Chief,” he said. “Just ring up that number and leave word that you’ll be at some particular place at some particular time. Don’t try to talk with me over the telephone. Just leave that message. Then you go to that place, and I’ll be hanging around. If the thing looks safe to me, I’ll be there. And if I don’t hear from you I’ll be here tomorrow night at seven.”

“Okay,” said Leith.

“Dixie,” he said, “I’ve got something for you to do which is rather confidential. I am going to take you to a night club where there’s a chap by the name of Bob Lamont. He makes this night club his regular hangout. He will probably have a companion with him, but, from what I’ve heard, he has a roving eye. I want you to see to it that his eye roves your way, and that you dance with him. After that, we’ll try and make a foursome if we can. If we can’t, you can date him up for tomorrow night. Think you can do it?”

“Brother,” she said, “in these clothes, if I can’t stop any roving masculine eye, I’m going out of show business.”

Sergeant Arthur Ackley banged upon the door of the apartment. Bolts clicked back as Harry Vare opened the door and stared stupidly at Sergeant Ackley.

Sergeant Ackley pushed his way into the apartment without a word, slammed the door shut behind him, strode across the room to a chair, and sat down.

“Well, young man,” he said, “you’ve got yourself into a pretty pickle.”

Harry Vare blinked and started to talk, but words failed him.

Sergeant Ackley flipped back his coat so that Harry Vare’s eyes could rest on the gold badge pinned to his vest.

“Well,” he said, “what have you got to say for yourself?”

“I... I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes you do,” said Sergeant Ackley. “You’re teamed up with this super-crook and you’re hashing up a scheme to assist in hijacking a big ruby.”

Vare shook his head.

“No, sir,” he said, “you’re mistaken. I had a big ruby which was given to me to keep but somebody stole it.”

Sergeant Ackley let his eyes bore into those of Harry Vare. Then he got to his feet, reached out and thrust a broad hand to the collar of Vare’s coat, twisting it tightly.

“Well,” he said, “it’ll be about ten years for you, and you’d better come along.”

Vare stared at Sergeant Ackley with pathetic eyes.

“I haven’t done anything,” he said.

Sergeant Ackley eyed the man shrewdly.

“Listen,” he said, “did you ever heard of George Navin?”

“You mean the man who was murdered?” asked Harry Vare.

Ackley nodded.

“I read something about it in the paper,” said Vare.

“All right,” said Sergeant Ackley. “Navin was murdered for a big Indian ruby. Bob Lamont was his secretary. Does that mean anything to you?”

“No, sir,” said Vare. “Not a thing.”

“All right,” said Sergeant Ackley. “I’ll tell you a few things, and you can see how much it means to you. This fellow Lester Leith that you’re working for is one of the cleverest crooks this city has ever produced. He makes a living out of robbing crooks of their ill-gotten spoils. He’s slick and he’s clever, and he usually dopes out the solution of a crime in advance of the police, and then shakes down the crook before we get to him.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Harry Vare.

“Well, maybe you did, and maybe you didn’t,” said Sergeant Ackley. “That’s something for you to tell the jury when you come up for trial. But here’s something else that you may like to listen to. Lester Leith picked up this chorus girl, and the two of them went out last night after they left you and picked up Bob Lamont and some other woman.

“Lester Leith is pretty much of a gentleman, and he wears his clothes well, and this chorus girl he had with him looked like a million dollars in a lot of high-priced clothes. The night club was more or less informal, and she gave Bob Lamont the eye. Bob fell for her and started to dance with her, and before the evening was finished they had moved to another table and were having a nice little foursome.”

“But,” said Harry Vare, gathering courage, “what has that got to do with me?”

Sergeant Ackley studied him in shrewd appraisal.

“So,” he said, “they made another date for tonight, and the four of them are going out.”

Harry Vare suddenly caught his breath. His eyes grew wide and dark with apprehension.

“Good heavens!” he said.

Sergeant Ackley nodded. “I thought so,” he said.

Panic showed in Vare’s face.

“You’ve got just ten seconds to come clean,” said Sergeant Ackley. “If you come clean and give me the low-down on this thing, and agree to work with me, there’s a chance that we may give you immunity from prosecution. Otherwise, you’re going to jail for at least ten years.”

Harry didn’t need ten seconds. He was blurting out speech almost before Sergeant Ackley had finished.

“I didn’t know the name,” he said, “and I didn’t know it was Lamont until you told me. But Lester Leith hired me to study detective work. He had his pocket picked once yesterday, and then gave me a jewel to carry, and it was picked from my pocket. I felt all broken up about it, but Mr. Leith said that it was all right, I’d have to learn a step at a time.

“He told me that tonight he was going to teach me how to make an arrest. He said that I was to arrest him, just as though he had been a crook. He said that he was going out to a dinner party tonight with another man and a woman, and that they would probably wind up at the man’s apartment; that after they got to the apartment, he had it fixed up that Dixie Dormley — that’s the chorus girl — was to take the other girl out for a few moments, and that, as soon as that happened, I was to come busting in as a detective and accuse Lester Leith of some crime, handcuff him, and lead him out.”

Sergeant Ackley frowned. “That’s everything you know about it?”

“Everything,” said Harry Vare; “but I get more instructions later.”

“Well,” Ackley said, “I’m going to give you a break. If you do exactly as I tell you, and don’t tell Lester Leith that I was here, I’ll see that you get a break and aren’t arrested.”

“That’s all right, officer,” Harry Vare said. “I’ll do anything you say—”

Lester Leith handed Sid Bentley, the mournful-faced pickpocket, a one-hundred-dollar bill. “Wages for another day,” he said.

Bentley pocketed the hundred and looked with avaricious eyes at the wallet which Leith returned to his breast pocket. “Speaking professionally,” he said, “you’d do better to carry your bills in a fold. That breast-pocket stuff is particularly vulnerable.”

“I know it,” Leith said, “but I like to have my money where I can get at it.”

Bentley nodded, his milk-mild eyes without expression. “I,” he said, “like people who carry their money where I can get at it.”

“Remember our bargain,” Leith said.

“What do you suppose makes me feel so bad about getting a hundred bucks?” Bentley asked. “I’m just figuring I made a poor bargain.”

“You mean the work’s too hard?”

“No, that there are too many restrictions. I’m commencing to think I could make a good living just following you around.”

Leith lowered his voice. “Where,” he asked, “do you suppose I make all this money?”

Bentley said: “Now, buddy, you’ve got me interested.”

Leith said: “We’re working on the same side of the street.”

“You don’t mean you’re a dip?”

“No, but I’m a crook. I’m a confidence man.”

“What’s the game?” Bentley asked.

Leith said: “I have different rackets. Right now, it’s sticking a sucker with that imitation ruby. I show the ruby to the man I’m aiming to trim. I tell him I found it on the street, that I don’t know whether it’s any good or not, that I presume it isn’t good, but that even as an imitation, it should have some value. I ask him what he thinks about it.

“If he’s a real gem expert, I know it from what he says. He tells me to go home and forget it. I thank him, and that’s all there is to it. But if he’s a little dubious about whether it’s genuine, I gradually let him think I’m a sucker. You see, this ruby is the exact duplicate of a valuable ruby that has been in the newspapers.”

Bentley said: “That’s what fooled me about it the first time I saw it.”

“You recognized it?”

“Sure.”

“Well,” Leith said, “lots of other people will, too. They’ll think it’s the genuine priceless ruby. Some of them will want to buy it. Some of them won’t. If the guy offers me anything like five hundred dollars for it, I’m perfectly willing to sell.”

Bentley said: “I’m still listening.”

“The big trouble,” Leith said, “is the risk.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’ve got too many of them out,” Leith said. “These imitations cost me about fifteen dollars apiece. I’ve been playing the racket for a week.”

“You’re afraid some of the suckers have made a squawk?”

“Yes.”

Bentley said: “I know just how you feel. When a racket gets hot, you know you should leave it, but there’s still coin in it, so you want to hang on.”

Leith said: “That’s where you come in.”

“What do you mean?”

Leith said: “I want you to follow me around from now on whenever I’m going to make a sale.”

“What do I do?”

“Just this,” Leith said. “A cop can’t make a pinch until after I’ve made a sale. In order to do that, they’ll have to plant a ringer on me for a sucker, and have the payments made to me in marked money.”

“No, they won’t,” Bentley said. “You’re all wet there, brother. They can either have the marked money on you, or they can pinch both you and the sucker and hold the sucker as a material witness.”

Leith said: “That last is what I’m afraid of. If that happens, I want you to get the evidence.”

“You mean from the sucker?”

“Yes.”

“Listen, brother. That evidence will be just as hot as a stove lid. I couldn’t—”

Leith took from his pocket a little cloth sack to which was attached a printed tag with a postage stamp on the tag.

“You don’t keep it on you for a minute,” he said. “You just beat it for the first mailbox, drop it, and let Uncle Sam do the dirty work.”

Bentley said: “That’s more like it.”

“Whenever you do that you get a five-hundred-dollar bonus.”

“And that’s all I have to do?”

“That’s all.”

“And my cut is still a hundred bucks a day.”

“That’s right. You just have to follow me around.”

“Lead me to it,” Bentley said. “But you’ll have to tell me when you’re going to make a deal.”

Leith said: “In about an hour, Miss Dormley, the young lady who was with me last night, and I are going out to dinner with another couple. I’ve fixed things up with Miss Dormley so she’ll get the other girl out of the way. That will leave me alone with the man. I figure I can put the deal across with him.”

“I’ll be tagging along.”

Leith said: “Carry this mailing sack where you can put your hand on it in an instant. Don’t ever be caught without it.”

“Listen, buddy,” Bentley said, “don’t think I was born yesterday. If you think I want to be caught with goods that will hook me up as your confederate, you’re cockeyed. And don’t pull your stuff in a place where there isn’t a mailbox on every corner, because if you do, it’s just your hard luck.”

Sergeant Arthur Ackley stared reproachfully at Beaver, the undercover operative. “Right under your nose, Beaver,” he said, “and you muffed it.”

The spy’s face colored. “What do you mean, I muffed it? I’m the one that told you he was going after that ruby.”

Sergeant Ackley said: “You argued a lot, Beaver, and became personally offensive, but you didn’t give me anything constructive.”

“What do you mean, constructive?”

“You didn’t even smell a rat when he brought that green kid in to act as a detective,” Ackley said.

Beaver sighed. “Oh, what’s the use. Just don’t forget that we have a bet. If all those various things I told you about fit into his plan to get the ruby, I win your watch.”

“Not at all, Beaver,” said Ackley. “You have overlooked one little fact. It was to have been done so cleverly that I couldn’t pin anything on him. You overlooked that little thing, Beaver, and that’s going to cost you fifty bucks — because I’ve already got it pinned on him.”

Beaver said: “I suppose you know every step in his campaign.”

Sergeant Ackley gloated. “You bet I do.”

The spy scraped back his chair and got to his feet.

Sergeant Ackley said: “Don’t go to bed until after midnight, Beaver. I’ll be calling you some time before then to come down to headquarters. Leith will be booked and in a cell. Then you can have the pleasure of telling him that you helped put him there — and you can pay over the fifty bucks to me.”

Beaver lunged toward the door. “You’ve thought you had him before,” he flung back, on the threshold.

Sergeant Ackley laughed. “But this time, Beaver, I have got him. I threw a scare into that green kid Vare, and he told me everything.”

The four people left the taxicab and walked across the sidewalk to the entrance of the apartment house. Dixie Dormley, attired in soft white, was vibrantly beautiful. The other young woman, although expensively gowned, seemed drab in comparison.

Lester Leith, well-tailored, faultlessly groomed, wore his evening clothes with an air of distinction. Bob Lamont was quick and nervous. He seemed ill at ease.

The four people chatted as they went up in the elevator, and Bob Lamont opened the door of his apartment with a flourish.

It was an apartment which was well and tastefully furnished. As secretary to George Navin, Lamont had drawn a very good salary.

When the two young women were seated, Lamont went to the kitchenette to get the makings of drinks.

Lester Leith gave a significant glance at Dixie Dormley.

She caught the glance, turned at once to the other young woman, and exclaimed, “Oh, my heavens, I left my purse in that taxicab! Or else it may have fallen out on the sidewalk; I don’t know which. It seems to me that I heard something drop to the running board as I got out.”

The young woman said: “Never mind, Dixie, you can telephone the taxicab company, and they’ll have it in the Lost and Found Department.”

“Yes,” wailed Dixie, “but suppose it dropped to the running board. Then it would have spilled off at the corner.”

Lester Leith reached for his hat.

“I’ll run down and see.”

Dixie Dormley got to her feet quickly and started to the door.

“No, please,” she said. “You wait here. I can’t explain, but I’d much rather go by myself, unless Vivian wants to come with me.”

She flashed the other young woman a smile of invitation, and Vivian promptly arose.

“Tell Bob that we’ll be right back,” she said.

As the door closed behind the two women, Lester Leith strolled out into the kitchenette where Lamont was taking ice cubes from a refrigerator.

“Well, Lamont,” said Lester Leith casually, “you pulled that murder pretty cleverly, didn’t you?”

Lamont dropped the ice-cube tray with a clatter, and stared at Leith with bulging eyes. “What the devil are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know well enough, Lamont,” he said. “The police were a little bit slow in catching up with you, that’s all, but the scheme wasn’t really so clever. The guards shut all of the windows and locked the shutters on the inside when they went into Navin’s room, but you were the last one in there. It would have been very easy for you to have moved against one of the windows and unlocked one of the shutters. Then you left the room, went directly to the safe, took out the gem, and went to your conference with the lawyer, which gave you your alibi. In the morning you walked in and locked the shutter again from the inside.

“You’d probably been bribed by the Hindus to leave one of the steel shutters unlocked, and had specified that they must break in and do the job promptly at four o’clock, so that the police would be properly confused.

“Where the police made their mistake was in thinking that whoever had committed the murder had also stolen the gem from the safe. It didn’t occur to them that they could have been independent acts. And apparently, so far, it hasn’t occurred to the Hindus. They thought simply that they failed to find the gem, and that Navin had placed it in some other hiding place.

“But you can’t get away with it long, Lamont. The police will be here inside of half an hour.”

“You’re crazy!” said Lamont.

Lester Leith shook his head.

“No, Lamont,” he said, “you’re the one who’s crazy. You overlooked the fact that, if the Hindus should start to talk, they had you strapped to the electric chair. And that’s exactly what happened. The police got a confession out of one of the Hindus about fifteen minutes ago. My paper telephoned me.”

Lamont’s face was gray. “Who — who are you?” he asked.

“I’m a free-lance reporter,” said Lester Leith, “who works on feature stuff for some of the leading papers. Right now I’m assigned to cover the story of your arrest in the Navin case. The newspaper knew it was going to break sometime within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Now if you would like to pick up a little money that would come in handy when it becomes necessary to retain an attorney to represent you, you can give us an exclusive interview. In fact, the only thing for you to do is to confess and try and get a life sentence. If you want to make your confession through my newspaper, we would bring all the political pressure to bear that we could to see that you got off with life.”

There was an imperative knock on the door of the apartment.

Lester Leith strolled to it casually.

“Probably the police now, Lamont.”

He opened the door.

Harry Vare burst into the room.

“You’re under arrest!” he snapped at Lester Leith.

Lester Leith stepped back and eyed Vare with well-simulated amazement.

“What the devil are you talking about?” he asked.

“Your name’s Lamont,” said Vare, “and you’re under arrest for the murder of George Navin. I’m representing the Indian priests who are trying to recover the gem, and I’m going to take you to police headquarters with me right now.”

Lester Leith said: “You’re crazy. My name’s Leith. I’m not Lamont. That’s Lamont over there, the man you want. I’m working for a newspaper.”

Harry Vare laughed, scornfully.

“I saw you come in here and had the doorman point out the one who lived here. He pointed to you.”

“You fool,” Leith said, “he made a mistake, or rather you did. He pointed to this man here, and you thought he was pointing me out.” Vare snapped a gun into view, and fished for handcuffs with his left hand.

“Hold out your wrist,” he said, “or I’ll blow you apart.”

Lester Leith hesitated a moment, then held out his wrist, reluctantly. Vare snapped one of the handcuffs to Leith’s wrist, locked the other one around his own wrist, and said, “Come on, you slicker, you’re going to headquarters.”

Leith said: “Listen! You’re making the biggest mistake of your life. You’re letting the real murderer—”

Bob Lamont laughed.

He turned to Harry Vare and said: “You’re quite right, officer, that’s Bob Lamont that you’ve got under arrest, but this comes as quite as a shock to me. I’ve known him for two or three years, and thought he was above reproach.”

“No, he wasn’t,” said Vare. “He was the man who murdered Navin.”

Lester Leith groaned.

“Youngster,” he said, “you’re making a mistake that is going to make you the laughing-stock of the city inside of twenty-four hours.”

Vare muttered grimly: “Come along, Lamont.”

Lester Leith sighed and accompanied Vare through the doorway to the elevator, down the elevator, across the lobby of the apartment house, and to the street.

“Well,” said Leith, “that was pretty well done, Vare. You can let me loose now.”

Vare took a key from his pocket and inserted it in the lock of the handcuff only after considerable difficulty. His forehead was beaded with nervous perspiration, and his hand was shaking. He made two attempts to fit the key to the lock. “I can’t seem to get it,” he said.

Leith glanced at him sharply. “Vare,” he said, “what the devil are you trying to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Give me that key.”

Vare didn’t pass over the key but instead looked expectantly back toward the shadows.

The voice of Sergeant Ackley said: “I’ll take charge now.”

There was motion from the deep shadows of the doorway of an adjoining building. Sergeant Ackley, accompanied by a plainclothes officer, stepped forward.

Leith said to Sergeant Ackley: “What’s the meaning of this?”

Ackley said: “You should know more about it than I do, Leith. You’ve delivered yourself to me already handcuffed.”

For a moment there was consternation on Leith’s face, then he masked all expression from his face and eyes.

“Didn’t expect to see me here, did you?” Sergeant Ackley asked gloatingly.

Leith said nothing.

Sergeant Ackley said to Vare: “Give me the key to those handcuffs, young man. I’ll slip one off your wrist, and put it on Leith’s other wrist.”

Vare extended his hand. Sergeant Ackley took the key, clicked the handcuff from Vare’s arm, and snapped it around Leith’s other wrist.

The rapid click-clack click-clack of high heels as two women rounded the corner, walking rapidly, came to Leith’s ears. He turned around so that the light fell full on his face.

“Why, Mr. Leith!” Dixie Dormley exclaimed. “What’s the matter?”

Lester Leith said nothing.

Sergeant Ackley grinned gloatingly. “Mr. Leith,” he said, “is being arrested. You probably didn’t know he was a crook.”

“A crook!” she exclaimed.

From the doorway of the apartment house came a hurrying figure, attired in overcoat, hat, and gloves. He carried a light suitcase in one hand, and crossed the strip of sidewalk with three swift strides. It wasn’t until he started to signal for a taxicab that he became aware of the little group.

Sergeant Ackley said to the plainclothesman: “Get that guy.”

Lamont heard the order, turned to look over his shoulder, then dropped the suitcase, and started to run.

“Help!” yelled Sergeant Ackley.

Lamont sprinted down the street. He turned to flash an apprehensive glance over his shoulder, and so did not see the figure of Sid Bentley as it slid out from the shadows.

There was a thud, a tangled mass of arms and legs, and then Bentley, sitting up on the sidewalk, said: “I got him for you, officer.”

The plainclothesman ran up and grabbed Lamont by the collar. He jerked him to his feet, then said to Bentley: “That was fine work. I’m glad you stopped him.”

“No trouble at all,” Bentley said.

The officer said: “Come on back with me, and I’ll give you a courtesy card which may help you out some time.”

Bentley’s eyes glistened. “Now, that’ll be right nice of you, officer.”

The officer pushed the reluctant Lamont back toward the little group which had, by this time, became a small, curious crowd. “Here he is, Sergeant,” he said.

Sergeant Ackley said irritably: “All right, Lamont. You’d better come clean.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lamont said.

Sergeant Ackley laughed. “Come on, Lamont, the jig’s up. You killed George Navin and got that ruby. Lester Leith hijacked it from you. Now, if you’ll give us the facts, you won’t be any worse off for it.”

Lamont said: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I... I took the custody of the ruby because—”

“Careful, Lamont,” Lester Leith said sharply. “Don’t put your neck in a noose.”

Sergeant Ackley turned and slapped Leith across the mouth. “Keep your trap shut,” he said, and to the plainclothes officer: “Go ahead and search him.”

“Oh, no,” Lamont shouted. “You can’t do it. Navin gave it to me to keep for him. I was going to turn it over to the estate.”

“Gave you what?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

“The ruby.”

Ackley said: “Go head, Lamont, tell the truth. You took the ruby, and then Lester Leith took it from you.”

Lamont shook his head.

Sergeant Ackley ran his hands over Leith’s coat. Abruptly he shot his hand into Leith’s inside pocket and pulled out a chamois-skin bag. He reached inside of that bag, and the spectators gasped as the rays from the street light were reflected from a blood-red blob of brilliance.

“There it is,” Sergeant Ackley said gloatingly.

Lamont stared, clapped his own hand to his breast pocket, became suddenly silent.

Sergeant Ackley said triumphantly to the crowd: “That’s the way we work, folks. Give the crooks rope enough, and they hang themselves. You’ll read about it in the paper tomorrow morning. Sergeant Arthur Ackley solves the Navin murder, and at the same time traps a crook who’s trying to hijack the East Indian ruby. All right, boys. We’re going to the station.”

Leith said: “Sergeant, you’re making a—”

“Shut up,” Ackley said savagely. “I’ve been laying for you for a long time, and now I’ve got you.”

Dixie Dormley said indignantly: “I think it’s an outrage. You’ve struck this man when he was handcuffed. You won’t let him explain.”

“Shut up,” Ackley growled, “or I’ll take you too.”

Dixie Dormley fastened glistening, defiant eyes on Sergeant Ackley. “Try to keep me from going,” she said. “I’m going to be right there, and complain about your brutality.”

Sid Bentley sidled up to the plainclothes officer. “The name’s Bentley, Sid Bentley. If you wouldn’t mind giving me that card.”

The officer nodded, pulled a card from his pocket, and scribbled on it.

“What are you doing?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

“Giving this man a courtesy card. He caught Lamont — stopped him when he was running away.”

Sergeant Ackley was in a particularly expansive mood. “Here,” he said, “I’ll give him one, too.”

Sid Bentley took the cards. He stared for a long, dubious moment at Lester Leith, then said: “Gentlemen, I thank you very much. It was a pleasure to help you. Good night.”

A police car sirened its way to the curb. Sergeant Ackley loaded his prisoners into the car, and they made a quick run to headquarters with Dixie Dormley, white-faced and determined, following in a taxicab.

Sergeant Ackley said to the desk sergeant: “Well, let’s get the boys from the press in here. I’ve solved the Navin murder, recovered the ruby, and caught a hijacker red-handed.”

Dixie Dormley said: “And he’s been guilty of unnecessary brutality.”

One of the reporters from the press room came sauntering in. “What you got, Sergeant?” he asked.

Sergeant Ackley said: “I’ve solved the Navin murder.”

“Hot dog,” the newspaperman said.

The desk sergeant said dubiously: “Sergeant, did you take a good look at this ruby?”

Sergeant Ackley said: “I don’t have to. I had the thing all doped out. I knew where it was, and how to get it. That ruby is worth a fortune. There’ll be a reward for that, and—”

“There won’t be any reward for this,” the desk sergeant said, “unless I’m making a big mistake. This is a nice piece of red glass. You see, I know something about gems, Sergeant. I was on the jewelry detail for—”

Sergeant Ackley’s jaw sagged. “You mean that isn’t a real ruby?”

Lester Leith said to the desk sergeant: “If you’ll permit me, I can explain. This was an imitation which I had made. It’s rather a good imitation — it cost me fifty dollars. I gave it to a young man who wanted to be a detective to keep for me. His pocket was picked. Naturally, he was very much chagrined. I wanted to get the property returned, so I discreetly offered a reward. The property was returned earlier this evening. What I say can be established by absolute proof.”

Sergeant Ackley’s eyes were riveted on the red stone. “You didn’t get this from Lamont?” he asked.

“Certainly not. Lamont will tell you that I didn’t.”

Lamont said: “I’ve never seen that before in my life.”

“Then where’s the real ruby?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

Lamont took a deep breath. “I haven’t the least idea.”

“What were you running away for?”

“Probably because of the manner in which you tried to make your arrest,” Lester Leith interposed. “You didn’t tell him you were an officer. You simply yelled, ‘Get him,’ and your man started for him with—”

“No such thing!” Sergeant Ackley interrupted.

“That’s exactly what happened,” Dixie Dormley said indignantly.

The desk sergeant said to Lester Leith: “Why didn’t you tell him this was an imitation?”

Dixie Dormley said: “He tried to, and Sergeant Ackley slapped him across the mouth.”

Sergeant Ackley blinked his eyes rapidly, then said: “I didn’t do any such thing. I didn’t touch the man.”

Dixie Dormley said: “I thought you’d try to lie out of it. I have the names of a dozen witnesses who feel the same way I do about police brutality, and will join me in making a complaint.”

Ackley said savagely: “Give me the list of those witnesses.”

Dixie Dormley threw back her head and laughed in his face.

The sergeant said: “You know how the chief feels about that, Sergeant.”

Lester Leith said quietly: “I’d like to call up my valet. He can come down here and identify that imitation ruby. It’s one which he had made.”

The desk sergeant reached for the telephone, but Sergeant Ackley stopped him. “I happen to know there was an imitation ruby made,” he said, “if you’re sure this is imitation.”

The desk sergeant said: “There’s no doubt about it.”

Sergeant Ackley fitted a key to the handcuffs, unlocked them, said to Lester Leith: “You’re getting off lucky this time. I don’t know how you did it.”

Leith said, with dignity: “You simply went off halfcocked, Sergeant. I wouldn’t have held it against you if you’d given me a chance to explain, but you struck me when I tried to tell you that the gem you had was an imitation, that it was my property, that I have a bill of sale for it.”

The newspaper reporter scribbled gleefully. “Hot dog,” he said, and scurried away toward the press room. A moment later he was back with a camera and a flash bulb. “Let me get a picture of this,” he said. “Hold up that imitation gem.”

Sergeant Ackley shouted: “You can’t publish this!”

The flash of the bulb interrupted his protest.

Edward H. Beaver, the undercover man, was still up when Lester Leith latchkeyed the door of the apartment. “Hello, Scuttle,” he said. “Up rather late, aren’t you?”

“I was waiting for a phone call.”

Leith raised his eyebrows. “Rather late for a phone call, isn’t it, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir. Have you seen Sergeant Ackley tonight, sir?”

“Have I seen him!” Leith said, with a smile. “I’ll say I’ve seen him. You’ll read all about it in the papers tomorrow, Scuttle. Do you know what happened? The sergeant arrested me for recovering my own property.”

“Your own property, sir?”

“Yes, Scuttle. That imitation ruby. I was rather attached to it, and Vare felt so chagrined about having lost it that I thought it would be worth a small reward to get it back.”

“And you recovered it?”

“Oh, yes,” Leith said. “I got it earlier in the evening. Sergeant Ackley found it in my pocket and jumped to the conclusion it was the real ruby.”

“What did he do?” the spy asked.

Lester Leith grinned. “He covered himself with glory,” he said. “He put on quite a show for a crowd of interested spectators, and then committed the crowning indiscretion of inviting them to read about it in the paper tomorrow morning. They’ll read about it, all right. Poor Ackley!”

A slow smile twisted the spy’s features. “The sergeant didn’t give you anything for me, did he, sir?”

“For you, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why, no. Why the devil would you be getting things from Sergeant Ackley?”

“You see, sir, I happened to run into the sergeant a day or so ago, and he borrowed my watch. He was going to return it. He—”

The phone rang and the spy jumped toward it with alacrity. “I’ll answer it, sir,” he said.

He picked up the receiver, said: “Hello... Yes... Oh, he did—” and then listened for almost a minute.

A slow flush spread over the spy’s face. He said: “That wasn’t the way I understood it. That wasn’t the bet—” There was another interval during which the receiver made raucous, metallic sounds, then a bang at the other end of the line announced that the party had hung up.

The undercover man dropped the receiver back into place.

Lester Leith sighed. “Scuttle,” he said, “I don’t know what we’re going to do about Sergeant Ackley. He’s a frightful nuisance.”

“Yes, sir,” the spy said.

“And a very poor loser,” Leith remarked.

“I’ll say he’s a poor loser,” the spy blurted. “Any man who will take advantage of his official position as a superior to wriggle out of paying a debt—”

“Scuttle,” Lester Leith interrupted, “what the devil are you talking about?”

“Oh, another matter, sir. Something else which happened to be on my mind.”

Leith said: “Well, get it off your mind, Scuttle. Bring out that bottle of Scotch and a soda siphon. We’ll have a quiet drink. Just the two of us.”

Beaver had just finished with the drinks when a knock sounded at the door. “See who it is, Scuttle.”

Dixie Dormley and Harry Vare stood on the threshold.

Leith, on his feet, ushered them into the room, seated the actress, indicated a chair for Vare, and said: “Two more highballs, Scuttle.”

Vare said haltingly: “I’m sorry, Mr. Leith. The way the thing was put up to me, I couldn’t have done any differently.”

Leith dismissed the matter with a gesture.

Dixie Dormley said: “After you left, a Captain Carmichael came in. He seemed terribly upset, and was pretty angry at Sergeant Ackley. It seems that two of the people who had been standing there were friends of Captain Carmichael, and they telephoned in to him about the brutality of the police.”

Leith smiled. “Is that so,” he commented idly. “What happened?”

Dixie Dormley said: “Well, Sergeant Ackley had just let Lamont go — figured he didn’t have any case against him. Captain Carmichael listened to what Ackley had to report, and was furious. He issued an order to have Lamont picked up again, and a radio car got him within a dozen blocks of the police station.

“They brought him back and Carmichael went to work on him, and in no time had a confession out of him. It seems he’d agreed to open one of the steel shutters for some Hindu priests. They’d paid him for the job. Then he got the idea of doublecrossing them, opened the safe, lifted the ruby, and hid it.

“He had it with him tonight when he was arrested. He swore the plainclothesman must have taken it from his pocket when they were scuffling. The plainclothesman denied it, and then they thought of this man who had first grabbed Lamont.

“So then they figured he was the man they wanted, and it turned out the police had not only let him go, but given him a couple of courtesy cards. Well, you should have heard Captain Carmichael! Such language!”

Leith turned to Vare.

“There you are, Vare,” he said. “A complete education in the detection of crime by the case method. Just observe Sergeant Ackley, do the exact opposite of what he does, and you’re bound to be a success.”

And the police spy, resuming his mixing of the drinks, could be seen to nod, unconsciously but perceptibly.