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Updated: June 3, 2025
"You mean," said the superintendent with interest, "that you've got something new on Spatola and perhaps on Morris and the girl!" "I mean," answered Ashton-Kirk, "that I hope to place the murderers of the numismatist Hume in your hands in a few days whoever they may be." Weagle waved his hand. "That's all we want," said he with a laugh. "Give us the right ones and we'll make no complaint.
It was no great distance to the municipal buildings; they shot up in the elevator and entered the police department. "I'd like to see Superintendent Weagle," said the investigator to the officer who came forward to speak to them. "He's just getting ready to go home," answered the man, "but I'll see what I can do."
The superintendent of police happened to be in an obliging humor, and they were shown into his office a few moments later. Weagle stood in the middle of the floor, drawing on a light over-coat; the end of a black cigar was clenched between his teeth. "How are you?" greeted he. "Anything doing in my line?" "Not just yet," replied Ashton-Kirk, "but I have some hopes." The official laughed.
With them it had been a mere matter-of-fact news item, but with the evening sheets it was different. They had had time to digest the matter, and their view of the order was one of surprise. Two or three allowed this feeling to expand itself into headlines of some size; a few also commented on the situation editorially. Superintendent Weagle had been interviewed.
"However," as he was passing through with Pendleton, "I can give you a piece of official police news on the case, which I just got from the superintendent. After to-night the guard will be removed from Hume's place. Weagle thinks the regular policeman on the beat is all that is needed from now on."
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