He Finds Evidence Overlooked by Others'"
"Stuff of that kind is like steam coal to a boiler," spoke Mr. Scanlon. "It'll keep the reporters going for days."
"The body of the article is shot full of fanciful matter," said the investigator, as he tossed the paper aside. "It must have been a youth of considerable imagination who wrote it; the casual reader would take from his printed remarks that the city authorities have the woman who made the footprints directly under their eyes—that only an order is necessary, and she'll be taken into custody."
Scanlon looked at the graying end of the cigarette with uneasy eyes; he shifted in the big chair and crossed one leg over another.
"That fellow Osborne'll never find out anything unless some one tells him," said the big athlete. "And no one's going to do that—not yet, anyway, eh?"
There came a knock upon the door.
"Come in," called Ashton-Kirk.
A short man entered; he had big shoulders and remarkable girth of chest, and he carried a black, hard hat in his hand.
"Sit down, Burgess," requested the investigator. The man with the bulging chest nodded to Scanlon and took a seat upon the edge of the sofa. "I've just been going over that report of yours," went on Ashton-Kirk. "You have done very well. And I thank you."
Burgess fingered the rim of the black hat, and seemed gratified.