There's just one more thing I want
you to do. I want a sample of the notepaper in the private desks
of every one of these people." He handed the policeman a list of
his 9 "suspects," as he called them. It included nearly every one
mentioned in the case.
Riley studied it dubiously and scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"That's a hard one, Mr. Kennedy, sir. You see, it means getting
into so many different houses and apartments. Now you don't want
to do it by means of a warrant, do you, sir? Of course not. Well,
then, how can we get in?"
"You're a pretty good-looking chap yourself, Riley," said
Kennedy. "I should think you could jolly a housemaid, if
necessary. Anyhow, you can get the fellow on the beat to do
it--if he isn't already to be found in the kitchen. Why, I see a
dozen ways of getting the notepaper."
"Oh, it's me that's the lady-killer, sir," grinned Riley. "I'm a
regular Blarney stone when I'm out on a job of that sort. Sure,
I'll have some of them for you in the morning."
"Bring me what you get, the first thing in the morning, even if
you've landed only a few samples," said Kennedy, as Riley
departed, straightening his tie and brushing his hat on his
sleeve.
"And now, Walter, you too must excuse me to-night," said Craig.
"I've got a lot to do, and sha'n't be up to our apartment till
very late--or early.
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