“I’ll do it—­if it can be done.”

“I want you to note every person he communicates with.”

“I’ll do that, too.”

“And here is another thing of great importance.  If he spends money, try to find out if it is good money.”

“Eh?” The shadower looked surprised for an instant.  “You want me to look out for counterfeits?”

“Exactly.”

“That is not so easy, but I’ll do my best,” went on Charley Vapp, and then he asked a number of questions regarding Tom Ostrello, all of which Adam Adams answered as well as he was able.

“You are to stay on this case until I tell you to drop it,” said the detective.  “And remember, if anything unusual occurs, let me know as soon as you can reach me.”

“I understand.  Anything more?”

Adam Adams mused for a moment.

“Yes.  You know Miss Bernard, who works for me here?”

“Sure.”

“Well, take care that she doesn’t see you shadowing Ostrello.”

“I’m wise,” answered the shadower, smiling, and the next moment he was gone.  He was not flustered by what was before him, for he had been shadowing people for eleven years, and as long as there was five dollars per day and his expenses in the work, he was willing to continue indefinitely.

With the shadower gone, Adam Adams meditated for a moment and then donned his walking coat and his hat.  In his pockets he placed several large but rather flat packages.

“I am going out, Miss Harringford,” he said to the clerk.  “If I am not back by five o’clock, you may lock up and go home.  Be on hand as usual in the morning.”

Down in the street he hopped aboard a passing car and rode eight blocks.  He entered an office building, went up in an elevator to the third floor, and took himself to a suite of offices occupied by certain United States secret service officers.

“I want to see Mr. Breslow,” he said, and was shown to a private apartment, where an elderly man sat, studying several reports.

“How are you, Adams!” was the greeting.

“Rather busy to-day, but what can I do for you?”

“I want to sell you some bank bills,” was the reply, and Adam Adams dumped the package on the desk.  Mr. Breslow opened it and examined the contents.

“By the jumping Judas!  Where did you get those?  Say, this is worth while.”

“I guess you haven’t rounded up quite as many as I have, have you?” said the detective, with a grim smile.

“As many?  Why, man, we’ve only run across sixteen so far, and you’ve got thirty.  They are such a clever counterfeit that even the banks get nipped.  This is wonderful!  I didn’t know you were following this trail.  Why didn’t you say something before?  Or maybe you wanted to spring a surprise, and make some of the boys, down here feel cheap.”

“No, it was nothing but blind luck.  I wasn’t on the trail at all.  I simply stumbled over the bills.”