“You can’t do it too quickly,” returned Dick.

“Oh, I know that,” answered the detective, with a short laugh; and then he and his companion backed themselves out.

“Say, Dick, I don’t take much stock in those fellows,” was Tom’s comment.  “They are good at talking, but it looks to me as if they didn’t know where they were at.”

“Exactly the way I look at it!” broke in Sam.

During that time the boys also received visits from several private detectives, all anxious to take hold of the case, but none of them willing to do so without first receiving a generous retainer.

“I am not going to pay out anything in advance,” Dick told one of these fellows—­ a shabby looking chap.  “You locate the bonds, and you’ll be well paid for it.”

“I don’t work unless I’m paid for it,” snapped the detective, and left the offices quite indignant.

“I suppose we could get a thousand detectives on this case if we were willing to put up the money,” said Tom.

“It might pay to hire some first-class man,” ventured Sam, “but not that sort.”

“I’ll call up Mr. Powell and see what he thinks of it,” answered Dick.  And a little later he was in communication with Songbird’s uncle over the telephone.

“It wouldn’t do any harm to put some first-class man on the case,” said the lawyer.  “If you wish me to do so, I’ll put you in touch with the best detective agency in the city.”

As a result of this talk, the Rovers obtained the address of a detective whose name is well-known in every large city of the United States.  This man called on them the following day, and went over the case very carefully with the youths.  He examined the safe and the combination lock, and then had a long talk with Kitty Donovan and her father and her mother, and also a talk with the old man who kept the little fruit stand downstairs.

“I’ll do all I can, Mr. Rover,” he said, when he re-entered the offices, “but you mustn’t expect too much.  This is certainly a mystery.”

“Mr. Bronson is the most intelligent detective I’ve seen yet,” said Sam, after the man had departed.  “He handles the case as if it was a strict business proposition.”

“That’s what I like to see,” declared Tom.  “The other kind of detective is good enough for a dime or a half-dime story book, but he never makes any success of it in real life.”

It must not be supposed that now they were in New York, Tom and Sam had forgotten the Laning girls.  They had written to Nellie and Grace, forwarding the letters to Cedarville because Hope Seminary was on the point of closing for the season.

“Letters for both of you!” cried Dora, when they and Dick appeared at the hotel one evening after a rather strenuous day in the offices, where all had been busy forming their plans for further investments.

“Good for you, Dora!” answered Tom, and held out his hand eagerly.