"Why, no, he doesn't--" then I checked myself and added "He will
be here presently. You can leave the bundle."

"Well, this is the parcel he telephoned for. His valet told me to
tell him that they had a hard time to find it, but he guesses
it's all right. The charges are forty cents. Sign here."

I signed the book, feeling like a thief, and the boy departed.
What it all meant I could not guess.

Just then I heard a key in the lock, and Kennedy came in.

"Is your name Bruce?" I asked.

"Why?" he replied eagerly. "Has anything come?"

I pointed to the package. Kennedy made a dive for it and
unwrapped it. It was a woman's pongee automobile-coat. He held it
up to the light. The pocket on the right-hand side was scorched
and burned, and a hole was torn clean through it. I gasped when
the full significance of it dawned on me.

"How did you get it?" I exclaimed at last in surprise.

"That's where organisation comes in," said Kennedy. "The police
at my request went over every messenger call from Parker's office
that afternoon, and traced every one of them up. At last they
found one that led to Bruce's apartment. None of them led to Mrs.
Parker's home. The rest were all business calls and
satisfactorily accounted for. I reasoned that this was the one