morgue. But then I don't hanker after murder work of any sort like some of the boys. It would be just my chance to get a taste of it before I 'm done with the Riverside robberies." "What are the Riverside robberies?" inquired Donaldson, with a faint remembrance of the name. "You been out of town?" "No, but I don't read the papers much." "I should say not. Four hold-ups in three weeks, all within half a mile of one another on Riverside Drive." "Riverside Drive?" He remembered now. The Arsdale home was near Riverside Drive. Barstow had spoken of these crimes. "You on the case?" he asked indifferently, "Yes," answered Saul. "I 'm on the case and if another one breaks, the case and the Chief will be on me." The cab had stopped before an unlighted store. The street light revealed a window filled with a medley of china, teas, silks, and joss-sticks. Above, in big gilt letters, was the sign "Wun Chung and Co." It was surprising how quickly in response to Saul's knocking a door to the left of the main entrance, and leading upstairs, opened. After a few words with the moon-faced attendant, the light was switched on and the three ascended to a small room, brilliant with gaudy Oriental colors and heavy with ebony furnishings. A group of three or four Chinamen sat at a small table soberly drinking their tea with the exaggerated innocence of those who have a deck of cards up their sleeves. The proprietor himself, fat as a butter ball, toddled up to Saul with a grin upon his round, colorless face. He ordered tea for all and they sat down. In two minutes Saul had explained what he wished, and in five a couple of the silent group near had taken Chung's orders and stolen out like ghosts. Saul swallowed his tea boiling hot and glanced at his watch. It was half-past four. "Now," he said, "I 'm going back for a wink of sleep. You can sit on here or you can have Chung notify you at your hotel, eh, Chung?" "Allee light," nodded the proprietor. "How long do you think it will take?" asked Donaldson quickly.