Captain Shammer of the Eighth police district read Mary Randall’s open letter through slowly and carefully. When he had finished he lighted a long black cigar from a box that had been sent him by a world famous confidence man. He smoked thoughtfully for some time. Then he put out a heavy hand and, without looking, pressed a white button at the side of his desk.
A sharp-eyed young man opened the captain’s door.
“Nick,” said the captain, “shut that door a minute and come over here.” He pointed to the black newspaper headline.
“Get that?” he demanded.
“Sure, first thing this morning, Captain.”
“We should worry.”
Captain Shammer rolled his cigar in his mouth. He wasn’t exactly satisfied with the answer.
“All right,” he agreed finally, “but Nick—”
“Yes, Captain.” Nick paused alertly, one hand on the door knob.