"Why, it just occurred to me lately to go scouting around the
city, looking at the Warrington holdings, making some personal
inquiries as to the conditions of the leases, the character of the
tenants, and the uses to which they put the properties. The police
have compiled a list of all the questionable places in the city
and I have compared it with the list of our properties. I hadn't
come to this one yet. But I shall call up our agent, make him
admit it, and cancel that lease. I'll close 'em up. I'll fight
until every---"

"No," interrupted Garrick, quickly, "no--not yet. Don't make any
move yet. I want to find out what the game is. It may be that it
is someone who has tried and failed to get your tenant to come
across with graft money. If we act without finding out first, we
might be playing into the hands of this blackmailer."

Garrick had been holding the letter in his hand, examining it
critically. While he was speaking, he had taken a toothpick and
was running it hastily over the words, carefully studying them.
His face was wrinkled, as if he were in deep thought.

Without saying anything more, Garrick walked over to the windows
and pulled down the dark shades. Then he unrolled a huge white
sheet at one end of the office.

From a corner he drew out what looked like a flat-topped stand,
about the height of his waist, with a curious box-like arrangement
on it, in which was a powerful light. For several minutes, he
occupied himself with the adjustment of this machine, switching