Britz pondered the list, carefully weighing the qualifications of each man, estimating his capability, his persistency, his resourcefulness.

At last he checked off eight names, and, summoning a uniformed doorman, directed that the eight men be ordered to report to him forthwith.
"Officer Muldoon of the Eighth Precinct is waiting to see you," the doorman informed him.
"Show him in," said Britz.
Muldoon entered with the mysterious air of one who has important information to impart and does not intend that his hearer shall underestimate its importance.
"I think I've got a line on this Whitmore case," he began.
"Well, what is it ?" Britz asked curtly.
"Just six weeks ago last night I was patroling Fifth avenue in front of the Whitmore house.

I saw a lady come out and enter a taxicab.

She was a beauty--fine looking and dressed like a queen.

In the half-open doorway of the house Mr.Whitmore stood, watching her descend the steps.