"It was a neat little game you played on me. Where does the laugh come in?" Fred laughed and asked: "Where were you born?" "Right here in New York." "Must have got lost then. What do you want of me?" "I am a detective and have been on the tracks of a band of forgers for months. I see in the papers that you helped bag one of them to-day. You gave warning to the bank. That's what I want to see you about. There is a big reward up for the arrest of the gang. If you can give me any information that may lead to the arrest of any of them you can have one half the reward." "Not much I won't," Fred replied, shaking his head. "I can arrest the whole gang myself and get all the reward." "That's all nonsense. You can't arrest any man. You're but a boy yet." "Yes, that's so. But I got one of 'em to-day. I could call that cop over here now and get another but I am not ready for you yet." "What do you mean?' the man asked, turning pale with a frightened look in his eyes. "I mean I am on to you." "How on to me?" "Oh, you make me tired. I got your pal to-day. Look out I don't get you to-morrow." The look of amazement on the man's face was a picture. Fred looked up at him and laughed. Then he turned away and went over across the street, as if to speak to the policeman there. The man hurried across Broadway, and was lost in the crowd surging along Park Row. "That was a good scare you gave him, Fred," Bob said, as they walked on up the street. "Yes. I knew it would be. I wouldn't tell him how I got onto his game. That's what he wanted to find out." "You have got to look out for him after this." "I am going to do that." They went up Broadway to Grand street, and then turned toward the Bowery. Both lived on the east side, above Grand street, in the densely populated districts where rents were cheap and everybody poor. Adah had not come in from the store. His aunt was very tired from the labor of a hard day's wash, and therefore not in the best of humor. "What brought you home so soon?" she asked, looking at him. "Just to make you stop work. You are killing yourself, aunt." "Would you tell me which is the best way to die--of hard work or starvation?" she asked. "Oh, we are not going to die for a long time yet. You'll marry again, and we'll all be rich." She straightened herself up by the side of the tub and glared at him. "What's the matter with you, Freddie?" she asked. "Are you sick, child?" Fred laughed and said: "Not sick, but tired." "Well, so am I, and all poor people, as for that matter. Did you give up selling papers and come home to rest?" "No, aunt. I came home to give you a rest. Just look at the color of that, and tell me what you think of it," and as he spoke he laid a ten-dollar bill on the corner of a little table near where she stood. She glanced at the bill and almost gasped out: "Ten dollars! Fred Halsey, where did you get that money?" "Downtown, aunt. Does it relieve that tired feeling to look at it?"