desk and then looked across at the uncomfortable Gibbs. “Want to see me?” he snapped.

“Yes, sir,” Gibbs made answer as Peter the doorkeeper entered in answer to Taylor’s summons.

“Then wait outside,” Taylor said, “I’ll see you in five minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” Gibbs said obediently and made his exit.

The deputy-surveyor turned toward the attendant. “Peter, let me know the instant Miss Cartwright arrives. Don’t forget; it’s important. That’s all.”

He dismissed Peter with a nod and then called to Duncan.

“Did Bronson of the New York Burglar Insurance Company send over some papers to me relating to the theft of Miss Cartwright’s jewels?”

Duncan took a long envelope and laid it on his chief’s desk. “Here they are, sir.”

Taylor looked at the documents eagerly. “By George!” he cried, when he had looked into them, “I knew I was right. I knew there was something queer about the way her diamonds were stolen.”

Duncan looked at him frowning. He prided himself upon his grasp of detail and here was the Chief talking about a case he knew naught of. “What diamonds?” he asked. “The case wasn’t in our office, was it?”

“No,” said Taylor, “this is a little outside job my friend Bronson’s mixed up in, but it may be a help to us.” He went on reading the papers and presently exclaimed: “It’s a frame-up. She wasn’t robbed, although she collected from the company on a false claim.”

“But I can’t see—” the puzzled Duncan returned.

“No,” said his chief, cutting him short. “If you could, you’d have my job. Has the Mauretania got to Quarantine yet?”

“Not yet, sir,” Duncan answered.

“Telephone Brown to notify you the minute she does. Tell him we’ve got to know as soon as possible whether Denby declares that necklace; everything depends on that.”

“But he may declare it,” Duncan observed sagely.

“If he does we haven’t a case,” his superior said briefly, “but I’ve a feeling there’s not going to be a declaration.”

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