On the fifth day the doctor granted Johnny permission to dress and move about his room. But under no circumstances was he to “leave the room or transact important business.”  
“As if I had important business to transact!” Johnny laughed to himself.
 
For all that, he sat a long time in a brown study. There are times for all of us when we appear to feel the shadows of tremendous events hanging over us. It was so now with Johnny. For some time he had been on the trail of something big. His old pal, Curlie, was under the shadows. He had broken the postal regulations; had opened a registered mail sack and had removed three valuable packages. One package, perhaps the most valuable of all, was missing. Until this was found, Federal operators would dog his trail. In time he might lose his position and his standing as a pilot.
 
213
Closely connected with this, as it seemed to Johnny, was the disgrace and shelving of Drew Lane and Tom Howe.
 
“If only we could find that man who lost an ear, the one Curlie and that girl saw,” he told himself. “If we could get him to talk; if we could bring him and Greasy Thumb with all his gang into court, we’d show some people up!” Without really meaning to, he thought of the Chief and of that whispering reporter from The World.
 
“And in time we will get that man!” he told himself with conviction. “We’ll find the crown jewels of Russia, if that is what the package truly contained. That will clear Curlie.
 
“And when certain people are properly shown up, there will be a new deal all around. Then Drew and Tom will be happy again. They will be back downtown, close on the heels of every crook who dares to show his face.”
 
214
He was still thinking of these coming events which appeared to cast their shadows before them, when the regular evening shadows began to fall.
 
It was at this hour that one who was very welcome indeed darkened the door of the shack and said, after a low bow:
 
“May I come in?”
 
“You need never ask,” Johnny exclaimed, as he recognized the caller. “The latch string is always out and the door stands always ajar for you!”
 
It was Joyce Mills. She took a seat in silence. For fully five minutes neither spoke. Silence is the test of true friendship. A superficial friendship is often filled with much clatter and many words without meaning. Only the tightest, truest bond of friendship grows stronger during a long period of eloquent silence.
 
“Johnny,” the girl spoke at last, “I miss my father terribly. Where can he have gone? Why can’t you find him for me?”
 
215
“Tell you what!” Johnny leaned forward with a smile. “You find the man who stole a registered package from Curlie Carson, and I will find your father.”
 
“Done!” The girl put out a slim hand. Johnny gripped it hard.
 
Newton Mills, this girl’s father, as you probably know, had for many years been one of New York’s best known city detectives. The life of such a man is hard. To catch criminals it is necessary to live the life they live, or so it has always been believed. This means long hours in dark and doubtful places at night. At times it means drinking and even drugs. The life had demoralized Newton Mills at last.
 
Johnny had found him a derelict. He had pulled this derelict to port and had for a time at least rendered it seaworthy. Newton Mills had once more worked wonders.
 
Now he was gone. He had vanished one fine morning without word or sign. That had been many days ago.
 
216
As he sat there now with Joyce Mills, the great detective’s capable daughter, so near him, Johnny thought of the times they had enjoyed together. Kindred spirits they had been.
 
“I must find him!” he said, thinking aloud.
 
“Yes, Johnny, you must!” The girl’s tone carried an appeal.
 
“But tell me.” She brightened. “What sort of a man am I to look for—this one who snatched the registered package?”
 
“That man? Why, somehow Curlie’s got the notion that he’s rather short and round shouldered, with curly hair and one ear missing. Queer business, that ear. Uncommon, I’d say.”
 
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