Though it was near morning when they turned in, Jack was astir early, eager to begin the real work on his case. His surprising identification of Miriam as the former spy on Silas Gyde whetted his zeal. Her present game of course was to secure the supposed millionaire in the bonds of matrimony. Was the Red Gang behind that, or was it a private venture? Jack was inclined to think it was all part of the same scheme. In either case Mrs. Cleaver, notwithstanding her social position, must be Miriam's confederate. It was Mrs. Cleaver who had picked them up. This put the game on a pretty high level. Almost every hour of the past two days had made Jack's problem more complicated—but also more fascinating.

When he was dressed, Jack mercilessly awoke the luxurious Bobo.

"Oh, Lord!" groaned the plump youth. "Do I have to get up?"

"You can sleep all day if you like. But we have to have a little talk before I go out. Sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes and pay attention."

Bobo obeyed, groaning lugubriously.

"It's about Miss Miriam Culbreth."

"Eh?" said Bobo, suddenly wide awake.

"Do you remember all you told me about her last night?"

"Of course I do."

"Doesn't it seem a little foolish to you this morning?"

"No, it doesn't! She's the most beautiful girl in the world. I love her more than ever!"

"Well, I'm sorry. I didn't take you very seriously last night. I thought it was too sudden. You've got to cut her out."

"Why?" asked Bobo blankly.

Jack deliberated before answering. He decided against telling Bobo the whole truth. It was within the bounds of possibility that the infatuated youth might tell the girl.

"I can't tell you all my reasons now," he said. "But believe me they are good reasons. It has to do with the game we are playing."

"You're not fair to her!" Bobo burst out. "You don't like her. She told me so herself."

"You're right, I don't like her. I have mighty good reasons for it."

"She's the noblest woman on God's footstool!"

"I'm not going to argue that with you," said Jack dryly. "I am speaking for your own good. When you first told me about her, I was afraid the poor girl might be taken in, thinking you were a millionaire. But I'm not worrying about her now. She's able to look after number one. But I tell you if you do not put her out of your head now, before the matter goes any further, you'll regret it till you die. I can't put it any stronger than that, can I?"

"I can't give her up! I can't! I love her!" cried Bobo, flinging himself down among the pillows.

"Take my word for it," said Jack earnestly, "she's no good!"

"You're wrong! You're wrong!"

Jack began to lose patience. "Well, if you won't listen to reason you'll have to take an order. Remember our agreement. You've got to give her up. This is an order, now."

"I can't! I can't!" moaned Bobo.

As usual in the display of Bobo's emotions, there was something both ludicrous and pathetic in the sight of the fat tousled head threshing the pillows. Jack grinned and said:

"Oh, go to sleep again. When you get up, have a bang-up breakfast and you'll feel better. I'll look in on you at lunch time."

Jack's first visit upon setting out from the hotel was to the offices of the Eureka Protective Association, at the address on Forty-Second street given on their representative's card.

He found the Association installed in an ordinary suite, neither grandly nor shabbily furnished, but entirely businesslike. The customary staff of a small office was visible at work: bookkeeper, stenographer and office-boy. In fact to the eye it was a wholly conventional establishment; open, aboveboard and prosperous.

Upon asking for the manager Jack was shown to an inner room, where a man of about thirty-five with a mop of lank, blonde hair hanging on his forehead, and what is known as an open countenance, was seated at a desk trimming his nails in unashamed idleness. It appeared that this was Mr. Anderson.

"Dave Anderson at your service," said he good-naturedly. "What can I do for you?

"My name is Robinson," said Jack, "secretary to Mr. Norman."

The atmosphere became balmier, as always with the mention of that magic name. "Sit down, Mr. Robinson."

Jack obeyed. "Mr. Norman felt that he wanted to know a little more about your association, and sent me around to ask a few questions."

"Perfectly natural!" cried Mr. Anderson. "Fire away! We court the fullest investigation. Certain parts of our business, of course, have to be conducted in secrecy, but as to our responsibility and trustworthiness, go as far as you like."

Jack asked all the natural questions, and Mr. Anderson answered them with every appearance of frankness. The information he gave merely amplified the talk of his representative the day before; the great public service Eureka performed, etc., etc. Jack learned nothing really significant from his talk, nor had he expected to. He asked no searching questions, because he did not want Anderson to guess that his customer was suspicious.

Jack's real purpose was to learn what kind of man was at the head of this branch of the Red Gang's activities, and while Anderson talked he studied him. In the end he had to confess himself baffled. Anderson was anything but what he had expected to find. He seemed like one of those rather slack individuals who represent the average of mankind; neither good nor bad; neither wise nor foolish; an untidy, well-meaning, loose-tongued fellow. How such a one could be trusted to dire............