Shayne listened intently, and as he listened the deep lines in his forehead gradually smoothed out. He nodded after a time and his voice was almost exuberant when he agreed: “It does look as though the James Brown and Cleveland address might be a phony, doesn’t it? I’ll be up tomorrow and may have some dope on that, but keep it under your hat. In the meantime, do me a favor, Chief, and yourself one too. Pull an autopsy on the corpse. What? I don’t care if the cause of death is established. Yep. Be seeing you.”

Shayne replaced the telephone on its prongs and told Mrs. Delray, “I’m afraid it may be your son. The Cleveland address simply doesn’t exist, and they have no record of him there.”

“I knew it.” Mrs. Delray clenched her thin hands together convulsively. “But I don’t know whether I can afford to pay your expenses to make a trip up there, Mr. Shayne. I’ve got fifty dollars here-”

She was nervously opening her purse again, but Shayne stopped her with a wave of his big hand. “The spy angle makes this sort of government business, Mrs. Delray. Forget about the expenses. They’ll be taken care of.”

Tears of thankfulness came into her old eyes. “That’s what I asked Captain Denton — if the government wouldn’t do something. He just laughed and said they couldn’t follow up every wild-goose chase that came along. But will you have to tell them, Mr. Shayne, about Jimmie?”

Shayne shook his head. “I won’t have to tell anyone anything.” He patted her shoulder gently. “You go on home and try not to worry. I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I have something to report. Just leave your address with my secretary.” He helped her from the chair and toward the door.

Lucy came in a few minutes later and stopped in front of his desk with her hands belligerently on her hips. “You certainly let Captain Denton put a sweet one over on you this time. Just forget about the expenses, Mrs. Delray. Where are we going to get next month’s office rent?”