“Goliath, keep an eye out of the door for the cop and call him this way,” said David, still acting as master of ceremonies.

The two crooks scowled apprehensively, and one of them inquired savagely: “You might at least tell us what it’s all about?”

“You’ll find that out soon enough,” David snapped back at him, after which there was no further conversation, while outside the shuffling of feet began to diminish, the running of porters slowed down to mere walking strides, and the voices of officers could be heard calling to one another. In the doorway Goliath’s broad back began to twist this way and that, and with an impatient “Humph! Wonder if that boob’s got lost?” he disappeared. The wait continued, and sounds indicated that the very last of the passengers had departed not only from the ship, but from the dock. David felt like expressing his impatience with the tardy Mr. Cochran aloud, and himself looked out of the door just as Goliath reappeared with a man in uniform—not a policeman’s garb, but that of the ship’s chief officer.

“The mate says we can’t hold these fellers here all night, but must take ’em out to the police office at the end of the docks,” Goliath announced. “I’ll get our suit cases and you can make ’em tote theirs, and we’ll go.”

“Come on!” David ordered his prisoners, and the chief officer scowled at them as if to identify them for future reference as they descended the gangplank. They made their way to the little building at the end of the wharf, which, to their astonishment, was filled with harbor police. It did seem as if Cochran must have been blind not to find it himself. A plain-clothes man, evidently of authority, looked up and smiled with great satisfaction and lighted eyes, as he said: “Hello! ‘Crump’ Smith and ‘Slippery’ Murdock, eh? Hope you’ve got somethin’ on ’em, this time, that we can put ’em over for. I’ve been tryin’ to get the goods on them for a long time now.”

The disconsolate sharpers scowled like a pair of pirates and sank down on a bench, while the detective called David into an inner office to question him. He listened to David’s story and then shook his head doubtfully.

“Something funny about this,” he said at last. “This man Cochran’s been gone more than an hour. He’s the complaining witness. We can’t hold this pair of sharks without him. Not but that I’d like to, right enough. We can detain ’em for a few hours, but no longer. You two men better go and see if you can find your friend that they skinned out of his wad. If I 

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