it--only a short time ago."

Gard frowned. "Well, I happen to know they got what they were after in
the way of information. But I took the liberty of being custodian of the
contents of that strong box--with Miss Marteen's permission, of
course--so there is nothing more to be done in that direction. Now, have
you had a man trailing Mahr? What I want is an interview with him in
informal and quiet surroundings, with a view to clearing the matter up,
you understand. But I'd rather not ask him for a meeting. All I know
about his mode of life is: Metropolitan Club after five, usually; the
Opera Monday nights. Neither of these habits will assist me in the
least. I want by to-morrow a pretty good list of his engagements and a
general map of his day--or perhaps you know enough now to oblige me with
that information."

Brencherly cast an inquisitive look at Gard. He had never accepted
Gard's explanation of his interest in Mahr's affairs.

"Well," he began slowly, "I put our men on the other end of the
case--Balling, the Essex Safe Company and all that, and I went after
Mahr myself. I think I can give you a fair idea of his daily life. He's
at the office early--before nine, usually--and by twelve he's off,
unless something unusual happens. He lunches with a club of men, as I
guess you know. He goes for an hour to Tim McCurdy's, the ex-pugilist,
for training. Then he's home for an hour with his secretary, going over
private business and correspondence. Then he goes to the club for
bridge, and in the evening he's usually out somewhere--any place that's
A1 with the crowd. His son he has tied as tight to the office as any
tenpenny clerk; doesn't get off till after five, and then he makes a
beeline for the Marteens' or goes wherever he'll find the girl. I