"Now then, young man," he said, pulling off his overcoat, and drawing up a comfortable easy chair, "you are my guest for the present, whether I conclude to turn you over to the authorities later on or not. Sit down there, and make yourself at home." Frank seated himself wearily and remained gazing at the fire without reply. Meanwhile, Caleb Hook studied his face in silence. "Was that woman really your mother?" he said at length. "Yes." The boy had burst into tears, burying his face in his hands. "Poor fellow!" said the detective, sympathizingly, putting his hand gently upon his shoulder, "I had a mother once, whom I loved better than any one in the world. Dear me! she died a dozen years ago. "You've had a great deal of trouble," he added, after a short pause. "I can see that at a glance. Now, do you know, Frank, that two-thirds of the scrapes people get themselves into come from lying? Suppose your mother were to speak to you now? Don't you think she would advise you to tell me all you know about this bank affair? Come, now, I'm sure she would." "She would as she once was," replied Frank, bitterly; "but my mother has been insane for the last five years, and in an asylum. God only knows how she came to escape to meet her death to-night." "Tell me all about it, my boy, tell me all about it," said Hook, familiarly, and in the most sympathizing tones. "If there is any way in the world to help you, count on me every time." It was the favorite motto of this famous man that to understand the motive of a criminal it was only necessary to lead him to believe that your sympathy lay wholly with himself. Personally, he fully believed the boy before him to have had a hand in the bank robbery. Nor was this strange. Had he not caught him almost in the act? If he could, by working upon his feelings in these, the first moments of his bitter sorrow, bring him to confess, much trouble to himself and much expense to the police in working out a troublesome case might thus be saved. It was with this end in view that he had adopted this unusual course. Nor were his efforts unrewarded. Frank opened his heart without further pressure, and related truthfully all that had occurred. One thing only he concealed--the secret of the "Bats in the Wall." The boys had befriended him in his moment of need. He was firmly resolved that no amount of pressure should draw from him the secret of their hiding-place, which through their kindness to himself he had learned. "Upon my word, this is a most remarkable story," exclaimed the detective, gazing at Frank with a puzzled air as he completed his tale. "But you have omitted to tell me how it is that having handcuffed you myself, and delivered you into the charge of an officer, you managed to escape as you did." "I can't tell you that, sir," replied the boy, firmly. "It would not help you any so far as tracing the bank-robbers are concerned to know."