It was Mr. Caleb Hook, the famous New York detective, who spoke, as he seized Frank Mansfield by the coat-collar and jerked him violently into the dark hallway which formed the rear entrance to the bank. At the same instant the forms of the three policemen were to be seen filling the open door. Even as he spoke the detective threw the full glare of a dark lantern upon the pale and frightened countenance of the boy who stood trembling in his grasp. "I--I--work in the bank," he stammered, brokenly. "I wanted---- I am the assistant cashier. I came here with my friend, Detective Cutts, to try the door and see that all was right." It was a bold stroke, but a useless one. Detective Hook laughed in his face. "Well, and where is Cutts?" he asked, sneeringly. "He was here a moment ago, just outside the door. I went into the bank and found that the vault had been blown open, and turned to call him in as you seized me on the steps." "I don't see him anywhere around," said the detective, coolly, at the same time pulling Frank toward the door, and looking quickly up and down Rector street. It was deserted. Cutts, the strange woman, and the two young fellows who held her down had alike disappeared. There was nothing to be seen save the dark outlines of Trinity Church, the old burial ground about it, and the white flakes of the ever falling snow. And the heart of Frank Mansfield sank within him as the full meaning of his perilous position burst upon his bewildered brain. The bank robbed--Cutts and his companions gone. Who would believe his story, now that he had been caught almost in front of the rifled vault? "Now look here, young fellow," said the detective, "you might just as well own up and tell the truth. Where are your pals? Who are you? What's your name?" "My name is Frank Mansfield. I'm assistant cashier of the bank." There was nothing to be gained by attempting to conceal his identity; Frank saw that at a glance. "I thought as much," replied the detective grimly, "and I'm a little behind time, I see. But you don't answer my other question. Where are your pals?" "I don't know what you mean." "Spread yourself, you Jones and Brady," exclaimed the detective, turning suddenly upon the officers. "Examine every doorway, one of you, the other make for the church-yard wall. Schneider, you come with me. We'll soon see what's been going on in here. This comes from the folly of the chief in keeping me so long engaged. I might have been here an hour ago at the very least." He turned quickly upon the boy as he spoke, and without a word of warning snapped a pair of handcuffs about his wrists. "Move on ahead there," he exclaimed, pushing Frank before him into the hall. "You say this bank has been robbed. I believe you. Show me what you have done."