came in from Chicago that a pork-made millionaire had added to his collec-tion a stone which tallied to the description of the Yquem emerald.
"Shall we go after it from this end, Chief ?" inquired one of the men on the job in Washington. "We can make the man who bought
it tell us where he got it and then sweat the rest of the game out of the go-betweens."
"Yes," snorted the chief, "and be laughed out of court on some trumped-up story framed by a well-paid lawyer. Not a chance! I'm going to land those birds and land 'em with the goods. We can't afford to take any chances with this crowd. They've evidently got money and brains, a combination that you've got to stay awake nights to beat. No--we'll nail 'em in New York just as they're bringing the stones in.
"Send a wire to Gregory to get on the job at once and tell New York to turn loose every man they've got--though they've been
working on the case long enough, Heaven knows!"
The next morning when Gregory and his society manner strolled into the customhouse in New York he found the place buzzing. Evidently the instructions from Washington had been such as to make the entire force fear for their jobs unless the smuggling combination was broken up quickly. It didn't take Joe very long to get the details. They weren't many and he immediately discarded the idea of possible collusion between the buyers of the stones abroad. It looked to be a certainty on the face of it, but, once you had discovered that, what good[61] did it do you? It wasn't possible to jail a man just because he bought some jewels in Europe--and, besides, the orders from Washington were very clear that the case was to be handled strictly from this side--at least, the final arrest was to be made on American soil, to avoid extradition complications and the like.
So when Joe got all the facts they simply were that some valuable jewels had been purchased in Europe and had turned up in
America, without going through the formality of visiting the customhouse, anywhere from six weeks to three months later.
"Not much to work on," grumbled Gregory, "and I suppose, as usual, that the chief will be as peevish as Hades if we don't nab the
guilty party within the week."
"It's more than possible," admitted one of the men who had handled the case.
Gregory studied the dates on which the jewels had been purchased and those on which they had been located in this country for a
few moments in silence. Then:
"Get me copies of the passenger lists of every steamer that has docked here in the past year," he directed. "Of course it's possible that these things might have been landed at Boston or Philadelphia, but New York's the most likely port."
When the lists had been secured Gregory stuffed them into his suit case and started for the door.
"Where you going?" inquired McMahon, the man in charge of the New York office.
24
"Up to the Adirondacks for a few days," Gregory replied.
"What's the idea? Think the stuff is being brought over by airplane and landed inland? Liners don't dock upstate, you know."
"No," said Gregory, "but that's where I'm going to[62] dock until I can digest this stuff," and he tapped his suit case. "Somewhere in this bunch of booklets there's a clue to this case and it's up to me to spot it. Good-by."
Five days later when he sauntered back into the New York office the suit case was surprisingly light. Apparently every one of the passenger lists had vanished. As a matter of fact, they had been boiled down to three names which were carefully inscribed in Joe's notebook.
"Did you pick up any jewels in the Catskills?" was the question that greeted him when he entered.
"Wasn't in the Catskills," he growled. "Went up to a camp in the Adirondacks--colder'n blazes. Any more stuff turn up?"
"No, but a wire came from Washington just after you left to watch out for a hundred-thousand-dollar string of pearls sold at a private auction in London last week to an American named--"
"I don't care what his name was," Gregory cut in. "What was the date they were sold?"
"The sixteenth."
Gregory glanced at the calendar.
"And to-day is the twenty-second," he mused. "What boats are due in the next three days?"
"The Cretic docks this afternoon and the Tasmania ought to get in to-morrow. That'll be all until the end of the week."
"Right!" snapped Gregory. "Don't let a soul off the Cretic until I've had a look at her passenger list. It's too late to go down the harbor now, but not a person's to get off that ship until I've had a chance to look 'em over. Also cable for a copy of the Tasmania's passenger list. Hurry it up!"
Less than ten minutes after he had slipped on board the Cretic, however, Gregory gave the signal which permitted[63] the gangplank to be lowered and the passengers to proceed as usual--except for the fact that the luggage of everyone and the persons of not a few were searched with more than the average carefulness. But not a trace of the pearls was found, as Joe had anticipated. A careful inspection of the passenger list and a few moments with the purser had convinced him that none of his three suspects were on board.
Shortly after he returned to the office, the list of the Tasmania's passengers began to come over the cables. Less than half a page had been received when Gregory uttered a sudden exclamation, reached for his notebook, compared a name in it with one which appeared on the cabled report, and indulged in the luxury of a deep-throated chuckle.
"Greg's got a nibble somewhere," commented one of the bystanders.
"Yes," admitted his companion, "but landin' the fish is a different matter. Whoever's on the other end of that line is a mighty cagy
individual."
But, though he undoubtedly overheard the remark, Gregory didn't seem to be the least bit worried. In fact, his hat was at a more rak-ish angle than usual and his cane fairly whistled through the air as he wandered up the Avenue half an hour later.
The next the customs force heard of him was when he boarded the quarantine boat the next morning, clambering on the liner a little
later with all the skill of a pilot.
"You have a passenger on board by the name of Dodge," he informed the purser, after he had shown his badge. "Mrs. Mortimer C.
Dodge. What do you know about her?"
"Not a thing in the world," said the purser, "except that she is a most beautiful and apparently attractive woman. Crossed with us once before--"[64]
25
"Twice," corrected Gregory. "Came over in January and went right back."
"That's right," said the purser, "so she did. I'd forgotten that. But, beyond that fact, there isn't anything that I can add." "Seem to be familiar with anyone on board?"
"Not particularly. Mixes with the younger married set and I've noticed her on deck with the Mortons quite frequently. Probably met
them on her return trip last winter. They were along then, if I remember
