Hines nodded. “Yes, I’m quite sure that both those fellows can be relied on, boss. Pretty tough, though, ain’t it, that they’ll have to go to prison?” Coggswell smiled confidently. “They won’t go to prison. They’re quite safe. They’ll be admitted to bail, of course, and I’ll see that there’s somebody to go on their bond, no matter what the amount--somebody who won’t mind when the bail is forfeited after those fellows have skipped beyond the jurisdiction of the courts.” Hines nodded again. “Yes, that ought to be easy. And, now, how about Sheridan? How are you going to prevent him from dragging you into this mess?” Coggswell smiled. “Let me answer that by asking you a question, Jake. Suppose you were on a jury, trying a criminal case: would you believe the testimony of a jailbird? Suppose the chief witness for the prosecution was a young man who had just been tried, convicted, and sentenced for being a thief: would you, as a juryman, take any stock in what he had to say?” “I would not,” declared Hines virtuously. Boss Coggswell laughed grimly. “Very well, then; that’s the answer to your question.” Hines looked bewildered. “But I don’t quite get you, boss. Sheridan ain’t a jailbird.” “Not yet, you mean, Jake,” corrected Coggswell, in his quiet, smooth voice. The eyes of the younger man suddenly lighted up. His was not a quick-moving brain, but he fully grasped the idea now. It appealed to him greatly, too. A prison was even better than a desert island, as a means of putting the kibosh on a rival in love. “I get you, boss!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “We’ll have to get busy and dope out a scheme for----” “I’ve got one already, Jake,” broke in the district leader smilingly. “One that can’t fail to work successfully. All that you’ll have to do is to carry it out.” For the next thirty minutes Jake Hines listened attentively while his chief explained in detail the plan which he had evolved. It was a plan which met with the former’s warm approval and admiration, and when the interview was at an end, he went out with great enthusiasm to put it into execution immediately. CHAPTER VIII. A DOUBTFUL JOKE. Later that day, three well-dressed middle-aged men entered a branch post office, downtown, and stepped up to the registry window. Handling a small, square package through the grille, one of them said to the clerk: “I wish to send this by registered mail. It’s a birthday present to a friend of mine. Is it sure to get there this afternoon?” “Oh, yes,” the clerk assured him, taking the package and making out a receipt; “it’ll be uptown in an hour, and go out on the three-o’clock delivery.” Into the registered-mail sack went the little, square package, and soon it was on its way to the general post office. Here the sack was opened, its contents rapidly sorted, and the little, square package placed, along with several other packages, in a smaller sack which was sent speeding uptown to Branch X Y.