"Ha, ha, ha, ha," laughed Jack, bitterly. "The riddle should be plain with the key in your keeping. But I know _you_, me Lord Beauchamp, alias Philip Rutley. Now, damn you, take the medicine your treachery awards you." Rutley straightened up, his mortification was very great. Naturally astute, shrewd and alert, for once he had been caught napping. With distended, staring eyes, he whispered, aghast: "Jack, Jack," and then, recovering himself, composedly said: "A--my poor fellow, you are mistaken; I don't know you," and then he swung himself about and laughed in that peculiar, high-pitched key--"He, he, he, he; he must be crazy." "Crazy, eh!" and Jack laughed low, hoarsely and derisively. "Ha, ha, ha, ha. The detective told me you had sold me for the reward offered for recovery of the child, but I would not believe him. Now! I know he told the truth. For the proof is there," and he pointed to the money in the hands of Mr. Harris. "The proof that you betrayed your partner"-- "You lie! You lie! Damn you, you lie!" exclaimed Rutley bitterly, as he swiftly turned to Jack, and then muttered to himself: "Ye Gods, I have been trapped by a fluke." Then, with marvellous nerve, declared: "Oh, this is preposterous; I will immediately bring some friends and prove that you malign me," and so saying he turned to move off. "Detective Simms, he is your man; arrest him!" said Mrs. Harris. On seeing his chance of escape lessening every moment Rutley abandoned all idea of further defense, and made a grab for his coat. Quick as was his action, he could not outmaneuver Sam, who promptly threw himself upon Rutley's back, and locked his arms about him, pinioning him as in a vice. And while in that position the detective slipped on the handcuffs. On releasing him, Sam turned with a broad grin of satisfaction to his aunt--"How is that for the Texas brand, eh, Auntie?" He got for his answer a smile, and an exclamation that pleased him immensely. "Splendid, Sam." "The neatest bit of work done since his partner tried to find a soft spot on Carbit strait pavement," added Smith, with a look of admiration. In the meantime Mr. Harris had been examining the packages of money, turning them over and over, looking first at one and then at another. Of a sudden his face lit up with a smile, as he exclaimed: "Why, this is mine; the identical package that he obtained from the bank on my indorsement. I can swear to it. But this?" And he looked meaningly at Virginia. "It looks like the package of notes I gave the Italian for Dorothy's ransom," she replied.