"You arrested them?" gasped Yorke. "How could I, when I ain't a real police, and hadn't any warrant? I did grapple with 'em; but the young 'un got out on the roof with the valise, and I was left to manage the old 'un as best I could. I tried to make him b'lieve that I had a detachment down stairs, but he gi'n me a lick over the top-knot that made me see Fourth of July, I tell you. There I laid, I don't know how long. When I got my senses, they was gone." "But you pursued them?" asked Yorke, with a nervous start. "With a hole in my head big enough to put a market-basket in?" responded Blossom, with a pitying smile, "what do you think I'm made of? Do you think I'm a Japan mermaid or an Egyptian mummy?" It will be perceived that Mr. Blossom said nothing about the HOUSE which stood next to the YELLOW MUG; he did not even mention the latter place by name. Nor did he relate how he pursued Nameless into this house, and how after an unsuccessful pursuit, he returned into the garret of the Mug, where Ninety-One, (who for a moment or two had been hiding upon the roof,) grappled with him, and laid him senseless by a well planted blow. Upon these topics Mr. Blossom maintained a mysterious silence. His reasons for this course may hereafter appear. "And so you've given up the affair?" said Yorke, sinking back into his chair. Now the truth is, that Blossom, chafed by his inquiries and mortified at his defeat, was cogitating an important matter to himself--"Can I make anything by givin' Israel into the hands of the mob? I might lead 'em up the back stairs. Lord! how they'd make the fur fly! _But who'd pay me?_" The italicized query troubled Blossom and made him thoughtful. "And so the seventy thousand's clean gone," exclaimed Fetch, in a mournful tone: "It makes one melancholy to think of it." "Pardon me, Mr. Yorke, for this intrusion," said a bland voice, "but I have followed Mr. Blossom to this room. I caught sight of him a few moments ago as he left Broadway, and tried to speak to him as he pushed through the crowd in front of your door, but in vain. So being exceedingly anxious to see him, I was forced to follow him up stairs, into your room." "Colonel Tarleton!" ejaculated Yorke. "The handsom' Curnel!" chorused Blossom. It was indeed the handsome Colonel, who with his white coat buttoned tightly over his chest and around his waist, stood smiling and bowing behind the chair of Berry Blossom. "You did not tell any one of the back door," cried Yorke,--"If you did--" "Why then, (you were about to remark I believe,) we should have a great many more persons in the room, than it would be pleasant for you to see, _just now_." The Colonel made one of his most elegant bows as he made this remark. Mr. Yorke bit his nails but made no reply. "Mr. Blossom, a word with you." The Colonel took the police officer by the arm and led him far back into that part of the room most remote from the table. "What's up, Mister?" asked Blossom, arranging his turban.