Hodgins had drawn his revolver as he rushed toward the Camera Chap, and he pressed the barrel of the weapon against his prisoner’s ribs. It was not usual for him to indulge in such spectacular gun play when making an arrest for a misdemeanor, but he had the legal right to shoot if his prisoner attempted to escape, and so bitter was he against Hawley that he would not have hesitated to avail himself of that right if the latter had made it necessary. But the Camera Chap proved to be a most submissive prisoner. Although he knew that he was booked now for a six months’ stay in the county jail, he accepted the situation with a rueful smile. The prospect was decidedly unpleasant, but there was nothing to be gained by “going up in the air.” Hodgins slipped handcuffs on his wrists, and marched him to police headquarters. Thrusting him into a cell and bidding the turnkey keep a vigilant watch over him, the chief hurried to the city hall to tell the mayor the good news. Half an hour later, as the Camera Chap sat in his cell, pondering on how he was going to get out of this predicament, there came to his ears the sound of a violent detonation, as though somebody had exploded a dynamite bomb in the vicinity of the headquarters building. Hawley wondered greatly as to the meaning of this. As the hours went by, he wondered, too, why he was not taken before a magistrate, instead of being kept at police headquarters. He put both of these questions to the turnkey, but could get no answer from that taciturn official. At length, however, his curiosity was satisfied in a most startling manner. The door of his cell was suddenly opened, and a powerfully built man, struggling desperately in the grip of two burly policemen, was dragged into the cage. As the iron gate closed with a clang, Hawley turned to this new captive in great astonishment. “Ye gods, Fred!” he exclaimed. “Have they got you, too? What on earth for?” Carroll, bleeding from a deep gash on his left temple, and badly bruised about the face, laughed bitterly. “There’s been a tragedy,” he said. “The Chronicle Building has been blown up by dynamite, and old man Gale killed--or, at least, fatally injured. And that fathead, Hodgins, accuses me of being responsible for the outrage.” CHAPTER XXXIII. A BOMB OUTRAGE. Chief of Police Hodgins had been to the city hall to tell the mayor the good news that the Camera Chap had been captured, and was on his way back to police headquarters when the explosion in the Chronicle Building occurred. As he passed the office of Gale’s newspaper, the chief thought that he might as well drop in and tell his old friend the glad tidings, too. He knew that the proprietor of the _Chronicle_ and his son would be delighted to hear that Hawley’s wings had been clipped at last, and that Mayor Henkle had agreed that the “young desperado” must be sent to jail, public sentiment to the contrary notwithstanding.