"Patsy," said Nick, "there's a fellow up stairs whom you'll have to shadow." 

 "Gaspard?" 

 "No; a man who calls himself Hammond. Gaspard has identified him as the man who was in room A." 

 "Look here," said Patsy, "am I a farmer, or is the man Gaspard the greatest living identifier?" 

 "What do you mean?" 

 "Why, it strikes me that he picked out his men a good deal too easy. If it's all straight, I'd like the loan of his luck for a few days. 

 "That identification on the elevated station looked to me like a fake. I don't believe he ever intended that you should get hold of the man. 

 "In my opinion, he's simply running around identifying everybody he sees." 

 "But this man Hammond admits it." 

 "Is he telling the truth?" 

 "No," said Nick, with a peculiar smile, "I don't believe he is." 

 "Well, then, Gaspard's a liar, and if he's lied here, he may have done the same thing in Jones' case." 

 Nick looked shrewdly at his youthful assistant. He is very fond of this bright boy, and gives him every chance to develop his theories in those cases in which he is employed. 

 "Come, my lad," said the famous detective, "tell me what has set you against Gaspard." 

 "He's going to skip." 

 "Is that so? Well, this is serious." 

 "It's a fact. I got it from one of the men in the restaurant. My man was told of it by Corbut." 

 "Corbut?" 

 "Yes; and there's another suspicious circumstance. There's a Frenchwoman who is going to give little old New York the shake at the same time as Gaspard. They're going back to sunny France together. 

 "Now, nobody knows this but the man I talked with. Gaspard thinks that Corbut was the only one who knew it. 

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