However, he was not prepared for such quick action as resulted; for suddenly Ashton-Kirk jumped up, glanced out at the car window, then darted to the platform and leaped off.  Pendleton followed at once, and came up with him part way down an intersecting street.

“Where to now?” he asked.

“City Hall,” replied Ashton-Kirk, briefly.

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.

“We all have them,” said he.  “If we didn’t we might as well put up the shutters.”  He threw the cigar end away and wiped his stubby moustache with a large handkerchief.  “You’ve come for something,” said he.  “What is it?  My wife and kiddies are expecting me, and I must get home.”

“How long are you going to maintain the police guard at 478 Christie Place?” inquired the investigator.

“I hadn’t thought of it,” replied the superintendent.  “However, we are in the habit of keeping such details up for some little time.  Another thing, there is a lot of valuable stuff there which must be looked after.”

“Beginning with to-morrow night,” said Ashton-Kirk, “I want you to withdraw your men.  And further, I want your permission for my friend Mr. Pendleton and myself to watch in their place.”

The official opened his eyes at this.

“Well,” said he, after a moment’s silence, “I don’t just understand your reasons; and the thing is most unusual.  But,” and he nodded his head approvingly, “I’ve always noticed that you have reasons behind everything you do, and if this thing is expected to throw any further light on the Hume case, why, it shall be as you say.”

“Thank you,” said Ashton-Kirk.  “Unless I am much mistaken it will close the matter finally as far as your department is concerned, and put the whole thing up to the District Attorney.”

“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.  And now, if you have nothing more to say, I’ll say good-night.”