"Do you know the work?" he asked; "could you recognize the ringleader?"
"That might not be so hard, sir," said Frawley, with a nod; "we know
pretty well, of course, who's able to handle such jobs as that. Would
you have a description anywhere?"
The Honorable Secretary rose, took from his desk a paper, and began to
read. In his seat Inspector Frawley crossed his legs carefully, drew his
fists up under his chin, and stared at the reader, but without focusing
his glance on him. Once during the recital he started at some item of
description, but immediately relaxed. The report finished, the Secretary
let it drop into his lap and waited, impressed, despite himself, at the
thought of the immense galleries of crime through which the Inspector
was seeking his victim. All at once into the unseeing stare there
flickered a light of understanding. Frawley returned to the room, saw
the Secretary, and nodded.
"It's Bucky," he said tentatively. A moment his glance went
reflectively to a far corner, then he nodded slowly, looked at the
Secretary, and said with conviction: "It looks very much, sir, like
Bucky Greenfield.
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