It appeared later that Nell Margate had discovered the feasibility of the robbery, that she had communicated with Fannie Coyle, then in London, and that the latter then had rung Deland into the job, the latter going to Berlin and cultivating the acquaintance of Colonel Barker, and successfully laying his plans, as have appeared. They were as successfully perverted by Nick Carter and his assistants, and the gratitude and joy of Mr. Rudolph Strickland, when he saw his cherished treasures being returned to his house, as Nick had promised, may be far more easily imagined than described. It was a fixed habit of Nick Carter, however--that of keeping a promise. THE END. “The Gordon Elopement; or, Nick Carter’s Three of a Kind,” will be the title of the long, complete story which you will find in the next issue, No. 155, of the NICK CARTER STORIES, out August 28th. In this story you will read of the further adventures of the famous detective with Mortimer Deland, the international crook. Then, too, you will also find an installment of the serial now running in this publication, together with several other interesting articles. SNAPSHOT ARTILLERY. By BERTRAM LEBHAR. (This interesting story was commenced in No. 153 of NICK CARTER STORIES. Back numbers can always be obtained from your news dealer or the publishers.) CHAPTER IV. HAWLEY’S CONTRIBUTION. “Thanks, old man,” said the Camera Chap to Carroll, as the boy went off to deliver this message. “But I hope this defiance of the police won’t get you into any trouble?” “I think not,” the editor replied. “You haven’t committed a murder, or any crime of a serious nature, have you?” “No, indeed,” Hawley assured him. “All I did was to take a snapshot. But I wasn’t referring to trouble with the authorities. What I meant was that I hope this won’t get you in bad with the owner of this paper. The chief of police doesn’t happen to be a friend of his, does he?” “No,” replied Carroll grimly. “I assure you that fat bully of a chief is far from being a friend of mine.” “But I said the owner of the paper,” Hawley protested. Carroll grinned. “My dear Hawley, the owner of the Oldham _Daily Bulletin_ sits before you now.” The Camera ’Chap stared at him in astonishment. “You?” he cried half incredulously. “Exactly,” chuckled Carroll. “I suppose it looks queer to you to see the proprietor of the sheet holding down the job of city editor, but I am only filling this chair during the absence of its regular occupant. My city editor is laid up with an attack of inflammatory rheumatism, so I undertook to do his work.” Still Hawley appeared incredulous. Two years before, Fred Carroll had been earning thirty dollars a week as a reporter on the New York _Sentinel_, and the Camera Chap recalled that he had always been notoriously hard up in those days. Where on earth could he have got hold of enough money to buy a newspaper?