The next instant a mask fell over the small man’s countenance. “Grathiouth thaketh!” he gasped. “How you thurprithed——” “Cut that!” Dick broke in sharply. “That went last night, but there’s no use in trying to fool me now. Who are you? and what are you after here?” A bewildered look came into the pale-blue eyes. “I weally don’t know what——” “Cut it, I say!” Merriwell repeated, his eyes flashing. “Spit out the truth or I’ll knock it out of you! Quick, now! Who are you?” A slowly dawning expression of keen shrewdness came over the other’s face, and for an instant he eyed Dick coolly and appraisingly. “You’re no fool, are you?” he said at length, in a totally different voice. “I reckon you’ve got me straight this time.” He hesitated for an instant. “Reckon I’ll have to trust you,” he went on quickly. “I’m after the guys who cracked the Hartford bank. Now, the question is, are you going to help me or try to trip me up?” Dick’s chin squared and his eyes narrowed as the thought of Archie flashed into his mind. It was incredible—impossible. He would not believe. “Who are you after?” he asked at length. “That feller McCormick,” returned the detective quickly. “He was seen around the bank just before the robbery. Him an’ his two pals took the train out in the morning. At Milton they separated. He come here with the swag, an’ the other two went on. My partner is following them.” “What makes you think McCormick has the swag?” Dick asked, though his heart was cold within him. “I don’t think; I know,” the man answered. “He brought it in a big bag, and last night he hid it under the hearth in the dining room. I heard him sneak downstairs, and I slipped through the kitchen and watched him. There ain’t no doubt about it.” Dick did not speak. His heart was too full for words. What he had tried not to believe was true. All the time that he had been watching Mac through the crack in the door the detective had been on the lookout from the kitchen. In spite of all, he could not seem to think of Archie as a thief. How had he ever been roped into such a thing? “Well, what are you going to do?” he inquired presently, in a listless voice. “Pinch him,” returned the detective tersely. “I’ve been holding off in hopes of getting his pals. Thought he telegraphed ’em this morning, but he didn’t. The agent wouldn’t tell me what was in the message he sent, but I did find out that the reply came from Bloomfield. It ain’t likely his pals are there. It’s too far away.” Dick caught his breath suddenly. “Bloomfield!” he exclaimed, and then was silent. Bloomfield was where his brother Frank’s school was located. Just now Archie McCormick’s brother, the one who had served a term in State’s prison, happened also to be there. What did it all mean? Why was Archie telegraphing to Jim? His thoughts were suddenly broken in upon by the detective’s voice. “Well,” he said briskly, “what are you going to do, help me or hinder me?”