More than an hour passed, and still they stood there on the watch. The detective was used to it, but Fred had been more active, and he began to wish the men would come along. Suddenly he nudged Caruth with his elbow--nudged him good. Caruth leaned over till his face was on a level with Fred's. "That's him--the man in the gray ulster." Caruth looked up and saw a man in a gray ulster and with gold glasses on. "Do you see the other one?" he asked. "No, I don't see him." "Well, look for him. Sure you have the right man now?" "Yes. That's one of 'em." Caruth did not pretend to look at the man in the line. But he kept him in view all the time. The man finally got up to the window and presented a check. The cashier looked at the check and then at the endorsement. He gave the man a hasty glance and then began counting out a large sum of money, using bills of large denomination to expedite the counting. He handed out the money and the man gathered it up and was putting it into his pocket when Caruth laid a hand on his arm and said: "The president of the bank wants to see you in his private office a few moments." Suddenly, and without any warning, the stranger kicked Caruth's feet from under him, and he fell heavily on the tiled flooring, his head striking it so hard that he became instantly unconscious. The stranger made a break for the street entrance. Quick as a flash Fred Halsey sprang forward in front of him, darted between his legs, and caused him to fall forward on his face. The man was quick, though, and caught on his hands. He was on his feet again in an instant. Again Fred darted between his legs and threw him. This time he rolled completely over and Fred saw the handle of a revolver protruding from a hip pocket. He grabbed it, cocked it, and held the muzzle within a foot of the forger's head, saying: "I'll shoot!" The man lay still, glaring at the black muzzle of the weapon like one confronting a ghost. Mr. Barron heard the noise of the three falls, and rushed out of the office in time to see Fred aim the revolver at the head of the forger. "Arrest that man!" he cried. "He is a forger." A forger is the one criminal most hated in Wall Street, and as soon as it was announced that he was one, the stranger was instantly surrounded and captured. A policeman came in from the street and put the nippers on him. "Bring him into my office, officer," said the banker. "He has a lot of the bank's money in his possession." The officer took him to the president's room, and Fred followed, with the pistol still in his hand. He was searched, and the money found in his pocket. The cashier brought in the check and said he did not believe it was forged. "Send for Mr. Manson and see what he says about it," suggested the banker. Manson was a rich broker, whose name had been forged to the check. He was found at his office and came over to the bank immediately. Taking the check, which was for $10,000, he made a close examination of it.