The girl was profuse in her thanks as she dried her tears and departed.

“I hadn’t anticipated having my hand forced so soon,” said Craig after she had gone, leaving her address.  “However, we are on the right track.  What was it that you were going to tell me when Marie came in?”

“Something that may be very important, Craig,” I said, “though I don’t understand it myself.  Pressure is being brought to bear on the Star to keep this thing out of the papers, or at least to minimise it.”

“I’m not surprised,” commented Craig.  “What do you mean by pressure being brought?”

“Why, Close’s lawyer, Lawrence, called up the editor this morning—­ I don’t suppose that you know, but he has some connection with the interests which control the Star—­and said that the activity of one of the reporters from the Star, Jameson by name, was very distasteful to Mr. Close and that this reporter was employing a man named Kennedy to assist him.

“I don’t understand it, Craig;” I confessed, “but here one day they give the news to the papers, and two days later they almost threaten us with suit if we don’t stop publishing it.”

“It is perplexing,” said Craig, with the air of one who was not a bit perplexed, but rather enlightened.

He pulled down the district telegraph messenger lever three times, and we sat in silence for a while.

“However,” he resumed, “I shall be ready for them to-night.”

I said nothing.  Several minutes elapsed.  Then the messenger rapped on the door.

“I want these two notes delivered right away,” said Craig to the boy; “here’s a quarter for you.  Now mind you don’t get interested in a detective story and forget the notes.  If you are back here quickly with the receipts I’ll give you another quarter.  Now scurry along.”

Then, after the boy had gone, he said casually to me:  “Two notes to Close and Gregory, asking them to be present with their attorneys to-night.  Close will bring Lawrence, and Gregory will bring a young lawyer named Asche, a very clever fellow.  The notes are so worded that they can hardly refuse the invitation.”

Meanwhile I carried out an assignment for the Star, and telephoned my story in so as to be sure of being with Craig at the crucial moment.  For I was thoroughly curious about his next move in the game.  I found him still in his laboratory attaching two coils of thin wire to the connections on the outside of a queer-looking little black box.

“What’s that” I asked, eyeing the sinister looking little box suspiciously.  “An infernal machine?  You’re not going to blow the culprit into eternity, I hope.”

“Never mind what it is, Walter.  You’ll find that out in due time.  It may or it may not be an infernal machine of a different sort than any you have probably ever heard of.  The less you know now the less likely you are to give anything away by a look or an act.  Come now, make yourself useful as well as ornamental.  Take these wires and lay them in the cracks of the floor, and be careful not to let them show.  A little dust over them will conceal them beautifully.”