the nose. He was carefully dressed, and looked as if used to his "three squares and a snack" daily.
Yet even while indulging in these reflections Myer's heart gave that old familiar thump. The man looked different in every particular. He had not run away, but was publicly exposing himself in the brightest of lights. His gaze, as he bowed to the perfunctory applause of the drinkers, was now dreamy, now keen and practical, never desperate—as that other gaze had been. But—he hugged the violin as that man had hugged it. The peculiar attitude was registered on Myers' memory.
"It's him," he gulped, and rushed out for a policeman.
He came upon one lolling carelessly at a street corner, to whom the pawn-broker, in high-pitched tones, imparted news of the fraud and its discovery.
"Wait," said the officer, "I'll 'phone to the station for a plain clothes man. It wouldn't do for me to make the arrest in uniform. It might hurt the management."
Ten minutes later the plain clothes man put in his appearance and in deference to the wishes of the café people the officer waited until the place closed before arresting his man. Goldman, much elated by the result of his sleuthing, went home to a much needed rest.
Next morning he was honored by a visit from headquarters.
"You had it right, Goldman," advised the inspector, "the man whose arrest you caused is the guilty party. He confessed after we found the makeup, wig and so on, in his room. He had played the game on more than you and Klein—half the pawnbrokers in town were left lamenting. His partner, who framed the job, got away to New York, beating the chap we have in custody out of his share of the proceeds. In fact, the man who pawned the violins and did the dirty work was really a dupe. The fellow who got away, an old-time gentleman crook, uses his brains to pick out uncompromising jobs, attended, with little risk. He got acquainted with the violinist at the cabaret, where the plan was arranged.
"The queerest part of the story," added the inspector, "begins with the stealing of all the violins in Providence. One of the lot was taken from a wealthy residence and is a real Stradivarius, for which there is a reward of five hundred dollars. It has a special V-shaped mark burned in the wood at the bridge. Now some of you pawnbrokers—"
Goldman, without waiting for further information, rushed behind the counter and grabbed the fiddle. His eyes traveled hungrily to the bridge and there they stopped, as he emitted a shout of joy.
"This is it," he cried; "this is the real Stradivarius!"
"You're lucky, after all," said the inspector, "but remember," he continued, "you'll be wanted in court tomorrow morning as a witness."
"I'll go," said Goldman, "but inspector, please, I ask you, don't ask me to testify. I shouldn't want to say anything against that fiddler. He done me a favor. Think of it, inspector, three hundred and fifty profit. I had a suspicion all along it was an old master!"
