It was his duty, and had been for years, to
_watch the police_ in order that Colonel Grand's _sub rosa_ interests
might be preserved from the fatal inconstancies of a greedy department.
Just now he was devoting his time to Tom Braddock, laying the trap for
the one man his employer feared more than he feared all the laws of
the land and all the authorities behind them.
The Colonel related his experiences of the morning. The private
detective perspired freely. He realized how near his employer had been
to death, and all through him. All efforts to explain his unhappy
mistake met with curt interruptions from the Colonel.
"Now," said that worthy, in conclusion, "I want you to find out if
Braddock has returned to Cronk's place. Naturally the police could not
find him this afternoon. He wasn't there. But he may go back to-night.
His wife won't be able to hold him under her thumb. Find this Cronk
fellow--the deformed one, I mean--and tell him I want to see him. Tell
him it is worth just one thousand dollars to him, and possibly five
times that amount. Send him up the rear stairway at Broadso's.
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