"Then that accounts for it. A man can't be a really successful criminal unless he keeps his wits about him. Here is the album. Look it over carefully, and let me know if you see anybody that looks like your man." And he left Walter to himself and reentered the outer office, to hear the reports of the roundsmen coming in. The book given to Walter was a thick one, filled with cards, photos, and tin-types of criminals. Under each picture was written a name, usually accompanied by several aliases, and also a number, to correspond with the same number in the criminal register. "Gracious, but they keep pretty good track of them," thought Walter, as he turned over page after page. "Who would think all these good-looking men were wrong-doers? Some of them look a good deal more like ministers." Walter had gone through half the book, and the photographs were beginning to confuse his already aching head, when a certain picture arrested his attention. "I've found him!" he cried out. "That's the fellow, although he is minus that moustache of his!" "Did you call?" asked the sergeant, coming to the door. "I've found him. This is the man. His name is given as Deck Mumpers, alias Foxy Mumpers, and Swiller Deck." "If he is called Swiller Deck, he must drink a good deal," said the sergeant, with a laugh. "You are sure of this identification?" "I am. But he wants a moustache put on that picture." "We take them bare-faced if we can. This photo was taken in Brooklyn." The officer turned to an official register. "Deck Mumpers, age forty-two, height five feet seven inches, weight one hundred and thirty-two pounds. Round face, big ears, broad shoulders, poor teeth. Sent to Sing Sing in 1892 for two years, for robbery of Scott diamonds. A hard drinker when flush. Now wanted for several petty crimes in New York. Came originally from South Boston, where he was in the liquor business." The sergeant turned again to Walter. "I guess you have struck your man. I'll send out the alarm. What is your address?" "I have just joined the navy and am bound for the _Brooklyn_. But I can leave you my uncle's name and address, and he can come on to Boston from Buffalo, if it's necessary." "That will do, then," answered the sergeant. He brought forth a book in which to put down the details of the affair. While he was writing, Walter slipped his hand into his pocket to see if the slip of paper he had received at the navy-yard was still safe. The paper was gone. CHAPTER IV ON THE WAY TO THE "BROOKLYN" "Oh, what luck!" "What is the matter now?"' "My order for a railroad ticket from Boston to Fortress Monroe is gone!" "Is that true? Perhaps Deck Mumpers cleaned you out after he struck you down," suggested the sergeant, quickly. "Feel in your pockets." Walter did so, and his face blanched. "He did--everything,--my money, keys, cash,--all are missing. What in the world shall I do now?"' "How much money did you have?"