That night when Farriss had heard the evidence his metallic eyes
snapped with an unusual light. Farriss, for once, was enthusiastic.

"A great lead! By God, it is! Now to prove it, Stella"--Farriss
always resorted to first names--"you drop everything else and go to
this, learn what you can, spend money if you have to. I'll drag Willis
off police, and you work with him. And damn me, if you two spend
money, you've got to get results! I'll give you a week--when you've
got something, come back!"




CHAPTER V: ON THE TRACK OF A CRIME

In the city room of the _Star_, Farriss, the city editor, sat back in
his swivel chair smoking a farewell pipe preparatory to going home.
The final edition had been put to bed, the wires were quiet, and as he
sat there Farriss was thinking of plunging "muskies" in Maine streams.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a clatter of footsteps, and,
slapping his feet to the floor, he turned to confront Willis and Miss
Donovan.

"Great God!" he started, at their appearance at so late an hour.

Miss Donovan smiled at him. "No; great luck!"

"Better than that, Mr. Farriss," echoed Willis. "We've got something;
and we dug all week to get it."