Owen hesitated, but only for a moment. His glance traveled from the veteran’s grizzled hair to the gold stars on his coat sleeves--emblems of forty years’ faithful service in the department. Then a look of determination came to the young inspector’s face. "No, Pop. I’m not going to arrest you," he said. "Hard as it is to believe, I feel that you’ve told me the truth, and I can’t be so unjust as to make you the scapegoat." Superintendent Henderson looked at Owen in astonishment. "Excuse me for butting in, Mr. Sheridan," he said, "but being that you’re new at this work I take the liberty of reminding you that it’s usual in cases of this sort to arrest the carrier. I don’t want to make things unpleasant for Pop, of course, but, at the same time, it seems to me that you can’t very well let him go free. You see, Mr. Sheridan, he admits that he handed the missing letter to the young woman, and, therefore, innocent though his intentions may have been, in the eyes of the law he’s a party to the crime." "I guess that’s right," assented Owen, his face flushing at thus having displayed his greenness. He turned apologetically to Carrier Andrews. "What the superintendent says is undoubtedly so, Pop. I’m sorry to say that I’ll have to place you under arrest, after all." TO BE CONTINUED. ONE WAY TO DIE RICH. A few years ago, a British ship having on board a large consignment of Spanish specie for a house in Rio Janeiro, was wrecked on the Brazilian coast. The captain ordered some of the casks containing the gold to be brought on deck, but it was soon found necessary to take to the boats without any of the treasure. As the last boat was about to leave, one of the officers went back to make a last tour of the ship. Sitting beside one of the casks with a hatchet in his hand, he found one of the sailors. "Hurry up!" cried the officer. "We came within an ace of going off without you." "I’m not going," replied the sailor, giving the cask a hearty whack with the hatchet, bursting it open, and laughing with delight as the coin poured out around him; "I’ve always wanted to die rich. I’ve been poor all my life, and this is my first and last chance. Go ahead! I’ll stay here with my fortune." Argue as he might, the officer could not persuade the fellow to leave the gold, with which he played as a child with marbles, and he finally had to leave him to his fate. THE NEWS OF ALL NATIONS. Robber Spares Nervy Man. Isaac Pressman, tailor at 5505 Woodland Avenue, Cleveland, Ohio, was awakened at four a. m. by the gleam of a flash light on his face. When he sat up in bed he found the flash light had been switched so as to shine on his trousers hung over the back of a chair. In the shaft of light he saw a hand searching the pockets. Pressman leaped from bed and grappled with the burglar. In the struggle the burglar seized Pressman’s revolver from the bureau and ordered hands up.