On our return to the city, I was not surprised after our
conversation over in New Jersey to find that Garrick had decided
on visiting police headquarters. It was, of course, Commissioner
Dillon, one of the deputies, whom he wanted to see. I had met
Dillon myself some time before in connection with my study of the
finger print system, and consequently needed no second
introduction.

In his office on the second floor, the Commissioner greeted us
cordially in his bluff and honest voice which both of us came to
know and like so well later. Garrick had met him often and the
cordiality of their relations was well testified to by Dillon's
greeting.

"I thought you'd be here before long," he beamed on Garrick, as he
led us into an inner sanctum. "Did you read in the papers this
morning about that murder of a girl whose body was found up in New
Jersey in the underbrush?"

"Not only that, but I've picked up a few things that your man
overlooked," confided Garrick.

Dillon looked at him sharply for a moment. "Say," he said frankly,
"that's one of the things I like about you, Garrick. You're on the
job. Also, you're on the square. You don't go gumshoeing it around
behind a fellow's back, and talking the same way. You play fair.
Now, look here. Haven't I always played fair with you, Garrick?"