"Hello, Devlin," said he; "this is Ashton-Kirk."
"Oh, how are you?" came the big voice of Captain Devlin, of the detective staff. "Osborne was just talking about you. Said you'd got kind of a rap across the knuckles on that Stanwick job."
"We must all expect setbacks now and then," replied the investigator, smoothly. "I get mine with more or less regularity."
The captain of detectives laughed loudly; his mirth came over the wire in booming flares of pleasure.
"That's so," said he, "we all get it." There was an instant's pause, then he added: "Anything I can do for you?"
"I wanted to ask about any cracksmen who might be in town at this time," said the investigator.
"There's a few," replied Devlin. "What's the name of the party you want?"
"I have no name. But I can give you some details of description. He's cautious in his habits—goes about his work carefully. He's small and has large feet."
"That won't fit any one I know," said the other. "There is no regular burglar hereabouts just now who is what you'd call small. But the other two counts—being cautious and having big feet—would fit Big Slim."
"Ah!" Scanlon saw Ashton-Kirk's eyes snap. "Big Slim! I take it that he is a tall man, lightly built."