The trial had come off. A small fine had been imposed by the village judge on Halsey for his disorderly conduct. The marshal had explained to him that Frank was not the person who had swindled him. He added that very probably through Frank’s investigation they would soon discover the identity of the United States Mail Order House. “You can come with us, but you will have to curb your fighting proclivities,” warned the marshal. “Here is where the law steps in, and you must not interfere with its course.” “I came a long way to get satisfaction,” muttered Halsey. “Somehow, I’ll have it too.” The marshal led the way, and they were soon mounting the stairs of Main Street Block. They proceeded quietly, so as to give no warning or create any curiosity with other occupants of the building. “There is the door,” said Frank in a guarded tone, as they reached the landing of the third story. The marshal advanced and gave a firm resounding knock on its panels. They could detect a stir within. Then the wicket shot back. “Who are you--what do you want? Thunder! it’s the marshal.” Frank fancied he recognized the tones as belonging to Dale Wacker. “That’s who it is,” answered the official. “Here, here I want a word with you, young man.” The wicket was shot as suddenly as it had been opened. They could hear a quick scramble in the room beyond. “Open this door,” loudly demanded the marshal, resuming his knocking. “They won’t do it,” spoke up Halsey, advancing a step. “Say,” lifting his ponderous fist, “I’ll soon clear the way, if you say the word.” “No,” responded the marshal, putting up a detaining hand. “We have no legal right to invade the premises. Whoever is in there, cannot escape. There is no other stairway leading to the street except this one.” “What are you going to do?” asked Frank. “Why, you had better go back to the town hall with Halsey,” advised the officer. “See the clerk, and let Halsey swear out a criminal warrant against Dale Wacker and others concerned in a swindling scheme at this place.” “All right,” nodded Frank. “Come Mr. Halsey, let us make haste.” “I will save you any delay, gentlemen,” spoke up a new voice. All three turned, to observe a keen-faced, bright-eyed man who had come quickly up the stairs. There was a certain half-military, half-official precision to his make up that at once impressed Frank. “Yes,” continued the newcomer, coming forward on the landing as though he had a perfect right there, “I’ll soon get action here. You are the town marshal, I believe?” “That’s right,” nodded the officer, regarding the speaker in some wonderment. “Well, I am a post-office inspector. Came on a telegram. Got the birds caged in there? Give me a few facts, will you?”