that city. He's out of our reach for to-night. But there are other things we've got to take care of."
"To-night?"
"Yes; to-night—for Hardman is ready to launch one of the biggest tricks ever turned by a crook. I almost respect that man; he's Napoleonic in some ways. While Sadie Wimpel's been unloading on that uptown women's poolroom Hardman's been manœuvring with Doc Kilvert's downtown establishment. And this is how he did it: Kilvert spotted that benevolent-eyed old Southerner in the frock-coat and sized him up as something ready and waiting for a killing. Hardman even looked good enough for a variation of the old green goods game, and Kilvert got busy. Hardman did some investigating on his own hook, played coy with Kilvert, and then fell for the plan. Can you beat that for one of life's little ironies?—a tin-horn conman like Kilvert trying to sell a handful of phoney money to America's most accomplished counterfeiter doing business on a Sub-Treasury basis!"
"But did he fall for it?"
"To-day, when the time for delivery came. Hardman turned on Kilvert and nailed him down. He turned the trick so well that he took that piker's breath away. Then he took Kilvert up to his room and talked real business with him."
"You mean you think he did."
"I know he did—part through Redney Sissons, part through our dictograph, and part through a bell-boy stool I'd planted there. But here's the point of the whole thing: As soon as Kilvert spotted that
