packages so that between us we could carry it easily, and at about
the time that Wall Street offices were opening we were on our way
downtown.

Langhorne proved to be a tall, rather slim, man of what might be
called youngish middle age. One did not have to be introduced to
him to read his character or his occupation. Every line of his
faultlessly fitting clothes and every expression of his keen and
carefully cared-for face betokened the plunger, the man who lived
by his wits and found the process both fascinating and congenial.

"Mr. Langhorne," began Kennedy, after I had taken upon myself the
duty of introducing ourselves as reporters, "we are preparing an
article for our paper about a new apparatus which the Star has
imported especially from Paris. It is a machine invented by
Monsieur Bertillon just before he died, for the purpose of
furnishing exact measurements of the muscular efforts exerted in
the violent entry of a door or desk by making it possible to
reproduce the traces of the work that a burglar has left on doors
and articles of furniture. We've been waiting for a case that the
instrument would fit into and it seemed to us that perhaps it
might be of some use to you in getting at the real robber of your
office. Would you mind if we made an attempt to apply it?"

Langhorne could not very well refuse to allow us to try the thing,
though it was plainly evident that he did not want to talk and did
not relish the publicity that the news of the morning had brought
him.

Kennedy had laid the apparatus down on a table as he spoke and was