has a big office in a down-town skyscraper. He is what the A. P. L. calls a "suspect." Let us call him Biedermacher.
About midnight or later, after all the tenants have gone home, you and I, who chance to be lieutenants and operatives in the League, just chance in at the corridor of that building as we pass. We just chance to find there the agent of the building—who just chances also to wear the concealed badge of the A. P. L. You say to the agent of the building, "I want to go through the papers of Biedermacher, Room 1117, in your building."
"John," the agent says to the janitor, "give me your keys, I've forgotten mine, and I want to go to my office a while with these gentlemen."
We three, openly, in fact, do go to Biedermacher's office. His desk is opened, his vault if need be—it has been done a thousand times in every city of America. Certain letters or documents are found. They would be missed if taken away. What shall be done?
The operative takes from his pocket a curious little boxlike instrument which he sets up on the table. He unscrews a light bulb, screws in the plug at the end of his long insulated wire. He has a perfectly effective electric camera.
One by one the essential papers of Biedermacher are photographed, page by page, and then returned to the files exactly—and that means exactly—in the place from which each was taken. The drawers and doors are locked again. Search has been made without a search warrant. The serving of a search warrant would have "queered" the whole case and would not have got the evidence. The camera film has it safe.
"Pretty wife and kids the fellow has," says the agent of the building, turning over the photographs which the simple and kindly Biedermacher, respected Board of Trade broker, we will say, has in his desk. He turns them back again to exactly—exactly—the same position.
"Good night, John," he yawns to the janitor, when they meet him on the floor below. "Pretty late, isn't it?"
The three men pass out to the street and go home. Each of them in joining the League has sworn to break
