“I can tell you about that,” said Ted quietly to the chief.

Desmond looked up at him curiously.

“Not now,” he said.  “Don’t go.  I want to talk to you after a while.  Now, brace up, Tom; you’re going to come out all right.  The ambulance is out here, and we’ll get you to the hospital.”

“It ain’t no use to jolly me, chief,” said the man on the floor.  “I’m all in.  I’m bleedin’ inside.  I’ve seen too many fellows with a shot like this ever to have any hopes.  Send for my wife and a priest.  I ain’t afraid to go, chief, but I hate to leave Maggie like this.”

“We’ll take care of her, Tom.  Get that off your mind.”

“All right, chief.  If you say so, I know it’ll be all right.  Poor girl, it’s hard luck for her.”

“That’s right, Tom, but brace up and don’t let her see that you’re worried.”

A woman’s scream sounded through the hall, and a slender, girlish figure pushed its way toward the prostrate man.

“Tom,” she cried, and knelt beside him.  “Are you hit?  Did they get you at last?”

“Oh, I ain’t bad, Maggie,” said the dying detective bravely.  “The chief’s going to have me sent to the hospital, and I’ll be all right in a week.”

But before midnight he died.

An hour later Ted met the chief of detectives.

“Get into my car,” said the chief, “and come down to my office, and we’ll have a talk.”

In a short time they were at the Four Courts, the big central police station of St. Louis, and when they were in the chief’s private office and the door barred to intruders the great detective turned inquiringly to Ted.

“Now, who are you, and how did you happen to be mixed up in that mess?” asked Desmond.

“My name is Ted Strong,” began Ted.

Suddenly Chief Desmond sat up straight and looked at Ted sharply.

“Not the leader of the broncho boys, are you?” he asked.

“The same,” said Ted.

“I know about you.  What were you doing near those detectives, that you should have got in so handily?”

“I’m a deputy United States marshal, as perhaps you know.”

Desmond nodded.  “Yes, I know,” he said.

“I was working on this very case,” said Ted, “and I had got hold of one end of it, and was about to follow it to a conclusion, when I saw the man Checkers on the street, and was following him.  He led me to the detectives.  The minute I saw them and him, I knew there would be something doing.”

“What did you know of Checkers?”

“Nothing at all, except that he knew somehow that I was working on the express-robbery cases, and yesterday he shadowed my partner and me to East St. Louis, where we left him behind in an automobile.”

Ted then told the chief how he had come about taking possession of the red car, to which Desmond listened carefully.  When Ted had finished, Desmond rose and paced the room for a minute.