“If you do, I’ll empty this pistol into you,” replied Wade. “If you want to do any thing about it, go and call the man that keeps the store.” “Where is the man that sleeps in the store?” asked the private watchman. “He is safe enough, tied hand and foot, so that his business is such he can’t leave.” Wade heard the men talking together, and he was pretty well satisfied that they were what they represented themselves to be; but, as he was not sure, he deemed it best not to let them in. It was time to make his round among the prisoners, and he set about it. He let the light of the lantern fall upon each, for the gas did not burn very brightly. When he came to the one who had proposed to buy out his interest in the scrape, he renewed his offer. Wade thought the voice sounded like one he had heard before; and he threw the light on his face. “I thought so!” exclaimed he. “You don’t seem to be in the missionary business just now.” It was Mr. Caleb Klucker. “I see you know me,” said the swindler; “but I am willing to give you a chance to make a pile of money.” “And I am willing to give you a chance to spend the next ten or twenty years of your life in the State Prison,” replied Wade. “I am sure we can’t make a trade on any other terms.” Wade left him. By this time the daylight was beginning to come in at the great windows on Broadway. It was nearly an hour by the clock since he had had his last talk at the back-door with the private watchman. The holder of the fortress seated himself in the rear of the store, and waited patiently for some one to come to his relief. He began to feel hungry too; and this reminded him that he had had no supper. He wondered whether he would be charged with being concerned in the robbery. He had promised to go back to the restaurant of Mr. Flinker in the morning; but he had little hope of ever seeing the hundred dollars he had lost. Perhaps the jolly old man that kept the eating-house might give him some breakfast; and that was all he had to hope for. While he was thinking in this way, he heard noises at the front door: some one was at work on the locks, and presently the door opened. A well-dressed gentleman and three other men entered at the Broadway door, and two of them were policemen. The person at the head of the procession was evidently the one that kept the store; and the man with the policemen was doubtless the private watchman. As they came in, Wade Brooks rose to show himself. “Who are you?” demanded the gentleman at the head of the procession. “I am the fellow that is keeping this store at present,” replied Wade. “Are you one of those that broke into the store?” “No, sir! I found the door open, and I came in.” “What has been going on here?” continued the proprietor, gazing sternly at Wade as though he considered him an intruder. “Well, sir, there has been an awful time here,” answered Wade, shaking his head to emphasize the statement. “Has the store been robbed?”