Archie had dropped the bag and was staring at the tangle of arms and legs in a dazed fashion. As he recognized Dick, he gave a shout of joy. “Thank Heaven, you came in time, old fellow!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been an awful fool. He was just getting away with all the money.” A look of triumph appeared on Joblots’ face. “Ah! ha!” he muttered. “What did I tell you?” “What money?” Dick demanded. “Quick, Archie! What are you talking about?” His face was strained with the suspense of waiting. “The money he stole from the Metropolis Bank two years ago,” McCormick answered eagerly. “He’s the thief. He’s the one who sent Jim to prison. He hid the money under the hearth, expecting to get it after everything was safe, but old man Hickey wouldn’t let him in. He came last night for it. I was awake and heard him slip downstairs. I followed him and saw him take up the stone to see if it was still there. After he had gone, I looked myself. There’s no doubt about it.” Joblots listened with a growing expression of mortification and chagrin. “Yah!” he snapped. “I don’t believe it! You stole that money from the Hartford bank two nights ago!” Archie looked at him in utter bewilderment. Then his face darkened. “You fool!” he ripped out. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing! Look and see. The wrappers are still around the bills.” Scowling fiercely at Joblots, he kicked the bag with one foot. In an instant the detective was on his knees, fumbling with the catch. Then, as it yielded, he threw back the cover and snatched up one of the packages. His face was incredulous. Tossing down the packet he picked up another, and yet another. They were all the same. Presently he arose slowly to his feet. “By thunder!” he muttered. “Looks like there was something in it.” Then he looked keenly at Archie. “What were you doing around the bank in Hartford at twelve o’clock the night of the robbery?” he asked significantly. “Coming home from a smoker,” the Yale man returned quickly. “How about those guys you were chummy with on the train yesterday?” persisted Joblots. “Never saw them before in my life,” McCormick smiled. “We got talking to each other in the train.” The detective looked nonplused. Before he had time to think of any more questions, a sanctimonious voice sounded from the path behind the little group. “Behold the wicked man who diggeth a pit and falleth into it himself. Look’s as if you’d got him this time, gents.” Dick loosened his grip on Jellison and sprang to his feet. The ruddy face of the Reverend Jeremy Pennyfeather grinned at him from a little distance. His eyes were twinkling shrewdly, and he did not look quite so pious as he had that morning. “Well!” Dick remarked. “Are you another detective?” The fellow laughed. “Guessed right the first crack, my friend,” he returned easily. “I was sent out by Mr. Frank Merriwell to keep watch of this here gent.” He indicated the sullen, lowering Jellison, who had raised himself to a sitting posture.