The monetary possibilities of this work set me thinking, and yet I knew I had in this instance to work rapidly. I loosed the cords, raised the body, and carried it to the bath tub, where I sought to freeze it hard enough for another day’s transportation. There, in the twinkling light of a solitary gas jet, lay all that was mortal of—I knew not whom. I claimed him as my own, and as I studied the now rigid form, strange questions arose and floated across my mind. Who was he? What had he been? Was he a father, a lover, or brother? Was his absence from home noted? Was he cared for? Or, was he, like myself, a wayward son? Such thoughts troubled me but little before, and yet, as he lay there on his frozen bed, I, seemingly fascinated by the awful solemnity of death, did not seem able to tear myself away. The gas flickered, a door slowly opened, and before I knew what had transpired, I was given the opportunity of looking straight into the eyes of the mysterious stranger—the Secret Service man—over the glittering barrel of a death-dealing weapon. Not a word was spoken, but our eyes instinctively turned towards the object in the bath tub. “Consider yourself under arrest, sir,” said the nocturnal intruder. “I am at your service,” I replied, knowing that it would be useless to try conclusions with that man in such a small room. While he was getting some iron bracelets out of his pocket, I mentally determined to have him in the street, glad enough to get away from me and my rooms. I was ready for him when he walked out into the next room; he keeping his pistol leveled at me with one hand, and trying to get his handcuffs out with the other. By the merry little twinkle in his eye I read his character as though it lay printed before me on an open page. It was part of my game, and I intended to play my hand as well as I knew how. He seemed to hold a good one, too, but as I had the greatest bower—money—I knew that it was worth the while to play it as best I could. Desperate, indeed, did my situation become when I saw that he had a companion awaiting us in the room, and a glance at the window explained how their entrance had been effected. As we got into the chamber the man with the pistol, who was much larger than his associate, looked at me and winked. “John, go to the station house, and wait until I send for you; but do not say anything until you get word,” my captor said to the other. No sooner had the man called “John” gotten out on the porch roof than the other turned to me with:—— “This is a nice sort of a business, and I have entrapped you neatly in it. It looks very much like the rope for you.” “My dear sir, you will let me explain, I hope. This man was my brother. He has just died of a malignant and very contagious disease. He had been sent to a medical college for dissection, and when I learned of it, I determined to save the body from the demonstrator’s knife. Come, look again, and see if you cannot discern a family resemblance?”