A man may be an easy-going man all his life, and go down to his grave without anything occurring to take him, as it were, out of himself, or to make him, either suddenly or by gradual stages, a different being from that which those most intimate with him believe him to be. We have seen this exemplified in Dick Remington, who, from an easy-going, irresponsible being, with no definite or serious aim in life, and with an apparently conspicuous lack of industry and application, has suddenly become an earnest, strong-minded, strong-willed man, bent upon a task which would tax the most astute intellect. An experience of this nature, but in a different way, had come to Constable Applebee, in whose mind certain agitating visions had been conjured up by the appearance of the reward bills. The usually calm depths were stirred, and the peaceful current of his daily duties became convulsed. If he could earn only one of the rewards he was a made man, let alone the chances of promotion. The prospect was alluringly disturbing, and it made Constable Applebee restless and watchful. When a dull man gets an idea into his head it becomes a fixture; to argue with him is time thrown away; it is there, and he sticks to it, perhaps because of its novelty; and when that idea carries with it the prospect of a lump of money all the logicians in the world are powerless to remove it until the sterner logic of fact, proves it to be false. And even then he doubts and shakes his head. Applebee's idea, which had created these visions of fame and a golden future, was that the man who had committed the murder and who had the jewels in his possession, was no other than Mr. Dick Remington. Whether he alone was the culprit, or in collusion with Mr. Reginald Boyd, time would show. He kept his counsel; not even in the wife of his bosom did he confide. He knew that Detective Lambert had the case in hand, the great detective who had brought so many mysterious crimes to light. What if he, Applebee, could succeed in proving himself Lambert's equal and snatching the prize from him? The prospect of such a triumph was dazzling. Dick met Applebee at the entrance of Deadman's Court, and gave him good evening. "Good evening," said Constable Applebee. He was not a man of overpowering intellect, and with this weighty matter in his mind he had not the wit to say good evening in his usual cordial manner. Dick noticed the change of tone, but attached no importance to it. Now, the duller-witted a man is, the more suspicious he is, and while Dick noticed a change of manner in Applebee which really existed, and attached no importance to it, Applebee noticed a change of manner in Dick which did not exist, and to which he attached immense importance. "He sees that I suspect him," thought Applebee, "and is afraid. What makes him afraid? Guilty conscience. That proves it." Thus do we jump at conclusions when we have all the argument to ourselves.