the safest and least suspicious hiding-place.

Kennedy evidently had some ideas and plans, for no sooner had he
completed arrangements with Dr. Lith so that we could get into the
museum that night to watch, than he excused himself. Scarcely
around the corner on the next business street he hurried into a
telephone booth.

"I called up First Deputy O'Connor," he explained as he left the
booth a quarter of an hour later. "You know it is the duty of two
of O'Connor's men to visit all the pawn-shops of the city at least
once a week, looking over recent pledges and comparing them with
descriptions of stolen articles. I gave him a list from that
catalogue of Dr. Lith's and I think that if any of the emeralds,
for instance, have been pawned his men will be on the alert and
will find it out."

We had a leisurely dinner at a near-by hotel, during most of which
time Kennedy gazed vacantly at his food. Only once did he mention
the case, and that was almost as if he were thinking aloud.

"Nowadays," he remarked, "criminals are exceptionally well
informed. They used to steal only money and jewels; to-day it is
famous pictures and antiques also. They know something about the
value of antique bronze and marble. In fact, the spread of a taste
for art has taught the enterprising burglar that such things are
worth money, and he, in turn, has educated up the receivers of
stolen goods to pay a reasonable percentage of the value of his
artistic plunder. The success of the European art thief is
enlightening the American thief. That's why I think we'll find