She had never looked into that open door but a pair of gleaming eyes had followed her every movement from under the disguised policeman's bushy false beard.
"I think that I have the key of the mystery now," gleefully soliloquized McNerney.

"I am tired of playing cobbler Mulholland." In fact, he needed time for rest and study.
A five-dollar bill had procured him the privilege of copying the cablegram, when a telegraph boy had stumbled in, two weeks before, to find Rachel Meyer.
The words "Schebitz-Breslau" had given him no clue; but on this auspicious day the postman had begged him to aid him in finding the proper party to receive a valuable registered letter.
The officer's quick eye caught the German stamp, "Value 2000 marks," and the words, "Absender, August Meyer." "This is the fellow at last," muttered McNerney.

"The man, August Meyer, who sends this poor devil of a woman two thousand marks.

She is preparing to skip out.

Now, for Mr.Lawyer Witherspoon!" "The next time that this woman meets the boy, he must be arrested on one corner by Jim Condon.