railroad. They showed him the photo of the little girl. “Its a hard thing -to ask, but have you ever seen a little girl who might be the one on this photo?” the officier said, show- ing him the picture. Phillips studied the picture for a moment. Something clicked in his mind. He rose, went to his files, sorted through some papers a moment and then returned and threw down a copy of the picture. The investigators were astonished! “About two years ago,” Phillips said, “that little girl was lost. I located her in Los Angeles.” “Who is she?” the detectives asked, barely able to keep excitement out of their voices. Sgt. Phillips glanced out of the window. “T don’t know,” he replied slowly. “Here is the story. About two years ago this little girl was lost, and as I say, I found her in Los Angeles. She told me she had been taken by a woman to have her picture taken and she was able to show me the place where she had been. I went in and after a talk with the photographer obtained the woman’s address. I went to her at once.” “Was this the photo the little girl had taken at that time?” “No, it was given me to help identify her. Well, I located the woman and told her about the child. Then she told me about the photo. She had given it to a man named Haney who lived at Florence.” » “Haney! And you say he is at Florence?” “Yes, it isn’t far away. You can go over there and have a talk with the Haney’s.” The officers left at once. They soon arrived in Florence and were knocking at the door of a respectable home. The door opened and an elderly man invited them in. They entered and walked in to the living room. There, on the mantel shelf before them, was a portrait of none other than the man who was killed at Ashcroft, Dave Haney! The elder Haney’s, respectable people, were deeply shocked to hear of their son’s death. But they, and other relatives hastily summoned, professed ignorance of Bill Haney’s whereabouts. They had not heard from him, they said, since he left with Dave. Close questioning elicited the fact that the Haney family were poor and on the verge of losing their property on a mort- gage. The detectives shrewdly reasoned that they had gone north to hold up the train in an effort to get enough money to pay off the mortgage. ALL CLUES PROVE FALSE The officers pressed their search for Bill Haney around Los Angeles. They were still busily engaged in running down clues and hints when a telegram arrived to say that Bill Haney had been captured at Dillon, Montana. Superintendent Fred Hussey of the Brit- ish Columbia Provincial Police, in company with American officers, left for Dillon. On arriving there they were bitterly disappoint- ed to learn that the man being held was not Bill Haney. That was the first of many such calls. Hardly a day went by without a telegram arriving in Victoria so say that Haney was being held. Thousands of dollars were spent in railroad fares and travelling ex- penses and though each call had to be in- vestigated they all had the same ending. Bill Haney had not been caught. The Detective Bureau in Los Angeles were also conducting a hunt for Haney. They received a hot tip that he was coming in on a certain train. A squad went down to meet the train. Haney was not on it. He had arrived on a previous train only 25 minutes before. A second tip, however, sent them racing to a little house not far from Florence. It was occupied by a woman who was sup- posed to be Bill Haney’s wife. The officers surrounded the place and one of them knocked at the door. A woman answered the summons. “We're here after Bill Haney,” she was told. Her expression never changed. “He’s not here,” she replied flatly. “He’s never been here.” The officers, armed with a search war- rant, entered the house. There were un- mistakable signs that Bill Haney had been in the house less than an hour previous. A quick canvass of the neighbours proved that the much-sought man had sauntered calmly down the street. He had been gone less than an hour. Though a thorough search was made he was not seen again. No news was heard of Bill Haney for some time then. The hunt didn’t cool. Railroad officials and detective agencies were still anxious to have a talk with him. Then from Peoria, Illinois, came the news that he had been killed in a gun battle. Detectives went to Peoria. They were disappointed again. The slain man was not Bill Haney. The scene next shifted to Australia. Sus- This smart squad, headed by Sergt. E. C. Williamson, gave a series of air raid precaution demon- strations at a number of B. C. centres during September and October. 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