Now, this gave the watchman the first real knowledge of the situation. Perhaps, too, he was strengthened by thoughts of duty! Wriggling his head away from McCann and before Mysterious Jimmy could stifle him, a yell rang through the bank that must have been heard for two blocks. It was a lion’s roar! Jimmy stuffed his fist in the man’s throat, but it was too late--the mischief had been done. The cry had been heard. Detective Davidson heard it at the top of Wall Street. More, a regular sergeant of police, out on patrol, rushed up to Davidson and demanded a reason for the outcry. “What’s up?” he called; “where did that noise come from?” “I heard it, too,” answered the detective, innocently enough, “but I guess it came from the west side of Broadway.” This was exactly the opposite direction from which it did come. “I’ll be d----d if it did,” blew the sergeant, as he ran down Wall Street toward the bank. Davidson followed him--was obliged to for appearance’ sake. In the meantime Detective Seymour knew that trouble had broken out, and a moment later was tapping out a warning on the New Street window for us. Then he ran to Wall and saw, in the light of the street lamps, the sergeant, Davidson, and Patrolman Conners coming toward New Street. In a moment there would be a pursuit. Realizing that blather-mouthed Jimmy had spoiled the game, we, in the bank, left the handcuffed watchman and climbed or tumbled out of the window through which we’d come, and scattering as best we could, made toward the East River. At the moment of leaving the bank we were almost in the hands of the police. We did some tall dodging, but it would have availed us nothing had there been any one in the police party anxious to catch us but the sergeant. Davidson, Seymour, and Mike Conners had to appear like honest coppers under the conditions, but favored us as much as they dared. There were five minutes of lively racing, at the end of which we had reached cover. Anyway, there wasn’t much chance for our capture when, out of five policemen, only one was honestly trying to do police duty. Ten minutes after the yell of Watchman Price, the neighborhood was swarming with policemen. When the sergeant and the pursuing party returned to the bank, the hapless watchman was discovered by his calls for assistance, and marched out of the bank handcuffed, volubly trying to explain how he came to be in the predicament. Not one of the officers had a key that would unlock the cuffs, and it was necessary to march him thus to the New Street station-house. I cannot but smile, as I recall that spectacle in Wall Street, the centre of finance,--a night watchman being escorted to the police station, handcuffed by the very burglars who made their escape. I trow Detectives Davidson and Seymour and Patrolman Mike Conners must have had an odd set of thoughts that early morning in March.