I watched him for any indication of wounded dignity, but, on the contrary, I had my first impression confirmed. He would take money, I felt certain, if given enough. I drove the nail still farther home, and, as a clincher, produced a corpulent roll of greenbacks and fondled it. His greedy little eyes gazed on it as though they would pierce the very inside of the bills, to know how much I held. “That’s the kind, sheriff,” I went on; “let’s get down to hard-pan. What’s the price? What’s it worth? Watts isn’t a flea-bite to me.” The sheriff fidgeted about considerably, but soon, to my satisfaction, was putting up a strong argument as to what his services were worth. Indeed, he seemed to be as accomplished in this line as were some of my New York detective friends. Finally he flat-footedly came out and said he’d accept a thousand dollars. I sent for Lawyer Rumsey and told him of the deal. He called me apart and said I needn’t pay the money, for things would come out all right without it. In fact, he expressed the conviction that it would be a needless expenditure of money. So thought Shinburn. Whether or not they were correct I do not know, but I have always entertained a doubt of it. I wasn’t going to take the chance of making an enforced trip to New Hampshire. I declared I’d pay the bribe. It was to be given the sheriff when we were ready to start for the depot, and while Mr. Rumsey had gone to attend to the details of our release. I began to feel, as also did Shinburn, that it was looking very much like New York. About eight o’clock in the evening Sheriff Smith summoned us to his office, in charge of a turnkey. My lawyer was there, and from the atmosphere of the place I got the impression that something unusual, and perhaps not to our liking, was about to occur. I hoped that the sheriff hadn’t reconsidered the agreement, after a talk with Watts. My mind was soon settled as to what was in the air. “Detective Watts is on a rampage,” began the sheriff, quietly, “and says he’s bound to get you fellers, if he has to use force. He evidently means what he says, for he’s got two more officers with him. By hook or crook, he swears that he’ll take you back to Buffalo with him to-night.” “Well, sheriff,” I inquired nervously, not being able to draw anything satisfactory from his words or manner up to this point, “what else have you to say?” I verily believe he enjoyed the uncertainty I felt. “If I turn you over to the New York officer here, Watts may attempt to take you away. At the depot he may put up the plea that his warrant antedates the one from New York.” “Well, go on, sheriff,” I urged, getting more unnerved; “out with it--what will you do?” “This,” he replied, closing his lips firmly. “I suggest that I heavily iron you men, hand and foot, and take you as far as Corning, where I’ll turn you over to your New York man, unless you think that it would be better for me to continue farther.”