CHAPTER XX

THE MAGNET A stout man, rather flabby and down at the heel, had been standing for some time in the Cincinnati post office deeply interested, apparently, in his copy of the _Times Star_. Also he appeared to be rather nearsighted, to judge by the way he held his paper. Only some one close to him would have seen that he wasn’t reading the paper at all, and that his eyes, anything but nearsighted, watched furtively all who came and went at the window marked General Delivery. The day was hot. The post office was airless…