If this plan failed to draw Karlov into the open, then every jeweller

and pawnbroker in town would be notified and warned. What with the

secret-service operatives and the agents of the Department of Justice

on the watch for Karlov--who would recognize his limitations of

mobility--it was reasonable to assume that the Bolshevik would be only

too glad to dicker secretly for the disposal of the stones. Now to work.

Cutty looked at his watch.

Nearly midnight. Rather late, but he knew all the tricks of this

particular kind of game. If the advertisement appeared isolated, all the

better. The real job would be to hide his identity. He saw a way round

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this difficulty. He wrote out six advertisements, all worded the same.

He figured out the cost and was delighted to find that he carried the

necessary currency. Then he got into his engineer's--dungarees, touched

up his face and hands to the required griminess, and sallied forth.

Luck attended him until he reached the last morning newspaper on the

list. Here he was obliged to proceed to the city room--risky business.

A queer advertisement coming into the city room late at night was always

pried into, as he knew from experience. Still, he felt that he ought not

to miss any chance to reach Karlov.

He explained his business to the sleepy gate boy, who carried the

advertisement and the cash to the night city editor's desk. Ordinarily

the night city editor would have returned the advertisement with the

crisp information that he had no authority to accept advertisements. But

the "drums of jeopardy" caught his attention; and he sent a keen

glance across the busy room to the rail where Cutty stood, perhaps

conspicuously.

"Humph!" He called to one of the reporters. "This looks like a story.

I'll run it. Follow that guy in the overalls and see what's in it."

Cutty appreciated the interlude for what it was worth. Someone was

going to follow him. When the gate boy returned to notify him that the

advertisement had been accepted, Cutty went down to the street.

"Hey, there; just a moment!" hailed the reporter. "I want a word with

you about that advertisement."

Cutty came to a standstill. "I paid for it, didn't I?"

"Sure. But what's this about the drums of jeopardy?"

"Two great emeralds I'm hunting for," explained Cutty, recalling the man

who stood on London Bridge and peddled sovereigns at two bits each, and

no buyer.

"Can it! Can it!" jeered the reporter. "Be a good sport and give us the

tip. Strike call among the city engineers?"




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