“All right,” said the detective. “All right! I want a check-up on the finger prints and then I’ll be going. I had to come to you for this. You have such an interesting collection.”
“Here’s your answer!” said the commissioner, rising and striding around the desk. “Take this bullet and look it over. Put it in your pocket. And––”
Drew turned swiftly. The messenger stood in the doorway. He came forward as Fosdick nodded. He passed over the hastily developed prints which Drew had taken. The commissioner glanced at them, frowned, held them to the light, then said:
“We’ll try these on the Man Who Can’t Be Beat! He’s the best in the world. He’ll know in three minutes who made these prints if the fellow is on our records.”
The fingerprint expert nodded to Drew as they entered a huge room which was lined with mahogany cabinets in the manner of a filing system in a mail-order house. Fosdick passed the five photos into this man’s hand. He smiled as the expert adjusted his glasses, pulled out a pocket magnifying-glass, and leaned close up to the prints.
“We’re infallible!” exclaimed the Commissioner with superiority. “Watch Pope get your man. He’ll hound him out in no time. Eh, Pope?”
The expert was not of a sanguine disposition in the minute which ensued as he ran over the prints, studied them, held them to the light then laid them down on a table and shook his head.
“We have no record of this fellow,” he said coldly. “It looks like a man’s print. Here’s the thumb and here is the middle finger of the right hand, I think. Hard to tell, sometimes. I’d say, as a pretty sure thing, that we have no duplicates in our collection. Shall I look?”
“Yes! Look!” said Fosdick.
Drew felt that the case was slipping from him as Pope fluttered from cabinet to cabinet, pulled out drawers, replaced them and tried still others.