Traile had already been there and gone again. Two other men were waiting, and Stacey set off once more.
“Beautiful system! Works like a charm. Good man, Peters! Too bad Burnham can’t be in on it!” he thought to himself. He wondered once or twice why Monahan couldn’t come. He felt a little sorry. He had always liked Monahan.
At four o’clock he and Traile had brought the last men on their lists to the police station.
“Pshaw!” said the lieutenant, “it’s too easy!—though two of the ones I got livened things up for a while. Come on! Let’s ask for more.”
They reported to the colonel.
“We’ve got all our men, sir,” said Traile, who was spokesman because he knew the officer personally.
“What!” the colonel exclaimed. “All twenty! Why, no one else has got a third through his list yet! Complain they can’t find their men.”
“We were lucky, I guess, sir,” Traile returned. “May we have some more names?”
“Sure! Coming in all the time.”
They received two further lists, dropped them in their pockets, and set off once more.