The boy’s teeth made a quick line of light and his face flashed.  “I tell—­quick!” he said, “I know those men!”

He left the shop and was lost in the crowd.  He was going first to the city hall for news—­then he would seek Philip Harris.  The plan that he was shaping in his mind needed help.

But at the city hall there was no news.  The chief of police seemed even a little irritated at the sight of the dark face and the slim, straight figure that stood before him.  He eyed it a moment, almost hostilely; then he remembered Philip Harris’s command and told the man what steps had been taken and the reports that had come in thus far through the day.  The Greek listened without comment, his dark face smouldering a little over its quick fire.  “You find nothing?” he said quietly.

“Not a damn thing!” answered the chief.

“I go try,” said Achilles.

The man looked at him.  Then he laughed out.  The door opened.  It was the detective in charge of the case.  He glanced at Achilles and went over to the chief and said something.  But the chief shook his head and they looked carelessly at Achilles, while the chief drummed on the desk.  Achilles waited with slow, respectful gaze.

The detective came across to him.  “No news,” he said.

Achilles’s face held its steady light.  “I think we find her,” he said.

The inspector did not laugh.  He studied the man’s face slowly, whistling a little between his teeth.  “What’s your plan?” he said.

Achilles shook his head.  “When I see those men—­I go follow.”

The detective smiled—­a little line of smile... that did not scorn him. 
“When you see them—­yes!” he said softly.

The chief of police, listening with half an ear, laughed out.  “Catch your hare, Alexander!” He said it with superior ease.

Achilles looked at him.  “I catch hair?” he asked with polite interest.

The chief nodded.  “You catch your hare before you cook it, you know.”

Achilles ran a slim, thoughtful hand along his dark locks and shook them slowly.  The conversation had passed beyond him.

The detective smiled a little.  “Never mind him, Alexander.  Anything that you find—­you bring to me—­right off.”  He clinked a little money in his pocket and looked at him.

But Achilles’s gaze had no returning gleam.  “When I find her,” he said, “I tell you—­I tell everybody.”  His face had lightened now.

The detective laughed.  “All right, Alexander!  You’re game, all right!”

Achilles looked at him with puzzled eyes.  “I go now,” he said.  He moved away with the smooth, unhurried rhythm that bore him swiftly along.

The eyes of the two men followed him.  “You’re welcome to him!” said the chief carelessly.

“I don’t feel so sure,” said the other—­“He may do it yet—­right under our noses.  I’ve done it myself—­you know.”

The chief looked at him curiously.