Owen’s right hand was thrust within the side pocket of his coat. The pocket bulged as though it might contain something else besides the hand. Hines noted that bulge, and obediently kept his hands in front of him. “Got me covered, have you?” he grunted. “Well, I’m from Missouri. You gotter show me. I’ve heard of that bluff bein’ pulled off before now with a pipe or a nail file.” Owen laughed. “All right; I’ll show you. Does this look like a pipe or a nail file, Jake?” Hines’ small eyes blinked at sight of the revolver which came quickly from Owen’s coat pocket. “No, that’s the goods,” he said gloomily. “I guess I’m up against it. Was you sent to Chicago specially to get me, Sheridan?” “Not exactly,” replied Owen, with a glance toward Dallas; “I came here mainly to look into another case; but I guess that can wait until I’ve got you safely locked up.” “Well, as long as you wasn’t sent to get me,” said Hines eagerly, “perhaps you’ll be interested in a little proposition I’m goin’ to make.” He, too, glanced toward Dallas. “I’ve got five thousand dollars in bills in my pocket, Sheridan. That money’d come in mighty useful to Miss Worthington just now. It would save her brother from a long term in jail. I’ll hand it over to her if you’ll let me walk out of that door alone. Is it a bargain?” “It is not,” said Dallas, before the post-office inspector could answer. “You’ve got to do your duty, Owen. Don’t listen to any proposal.” Owen gave her a grateful and admiring glance. “That’s fine of you, Dallas. Of course, there’s no danger of my accepting this bribe. I scarcely think, though, that your brother will have to go to jail for the lack of that money. I don’t believe that he’s short five thousand dollars at the office at all. I’ve got a shrewd suspicion that these rascals invented that yarn, and have been trying to work a cunning game on you.” It was only a guess, of course, but Owen could see from the discomfited and sheepish look that came to young Worthington’s face that he had guessed right. TO BE CONTINUED. * * * * * WHO IS IT? A laughable illustration of how anger causes a man to make himself ridiculous is given in the following incident, related in a German newspaper: Banker Rosenthal directed his bookkeeper to address a sharp letter to Baron Y----, who had promised several times to pay what he owed, and had as often neglected to do so. When the letter was written, it did not please Banker Rosenthal, who is very excitable, and he angrily penned the following: “DEAR BARON Y---- : Who was it that promised to pay up on the 1st of January? You, my dear baron, you are the man. Who was it that promised, then, to settle on the 1st of March? You, my dear baron. Who was it that didn’t settle on the 1st of March? You, my dear baron. Who is it, then, who has broken his word twice, and is an unmitigated scoundrel? Your obedient servant,