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214
HE GOES TO PARIS FOR A NIGHT

dentially. "There's a prominent citizen of New York City been mislaid, Captain; and, from information we've got, we reckon you know quite a lot about his whereabouts."

Hugh pulled out his cigarette-case.

"Turkish this side—Virginian that. Ah! But I see you're smoking." With great deliberation he selected one himself, and lit it. "You were saying, Mr. Green?"

The detective stared at him thoughtfully; at the moment he was not quite certain how to tackle this large and self-possessed young man.

"Might I ask why you're over here?" he asked at length, deciding to feel his way.

"The air is free to everyone, Mr. Green. As long as you get your share to breathe, you can ask anything you like."

The American laughed again.

"I guess I'll put my cards down," he said, with sudden decision. "What about Hiram C. Potts?"

"What, indeed?" remarked Hugh. "Sounds like a riddle, don't it?"

"You've heard of him, Captain?"

"Few people have not."

"Yes—but you've met him recently," said the detective, leaning forward. "You know where he is, and"—he tapped Hugh on the knee impressively—"I want him. I want Hiram C. Potts like a man wants a drink in a dry state. I want to take him back in cottonwool to his wife and daughters. That's why I'm over this side, Captain, just for that one purpose."