Trust, so I called on Mr. Elverson."

"Mistake Number One. Elverson is straight, but his office is fuller
of leaks than a sieve."

"That's probably why I found my private laboratory reeking of
cyanide fumes a fortnight later," remarked Dorr dryly. "I got to
the outer air alive, but not much more. A week later there was an
explosion in the laboratory. I didn't happen to be there at the
time. The odd feature of the explosion was that I hadn't any
explosive drugs in the place."

"Where is this laboratory?"

"Over in Flatbush, where I live--or did live. Within a month after
that, a friendly neighbor took a pot-shot at a man who was sneaking
up behind me as I was going home late one night. The man shot, too,
but missed me. I reported it to the police, and they told me to be
sure and not let the newspapers know. Then they forgot it."

Average Jones laughed. "Of course they did. Some day New York will
find out that 'the finest police force in the world' is the biggest
sham outside the dime museum. Except in the case of crimes by the
regular, advertised criminals, they're as helpless as babies.
Didn't you take any other precautions?"

"Oh, yes. I reported the attempt to Judge Elverson. He sent a
secret service man over to live with me. Then I got a commission
out in Denver. When I came back, about a month ago, Judge Elverson
gave me the two dogs."