I think a rail road car was never emptied of its contents in a much less time than on the present occasion. And my very informal introduction to the wholesale dealer in goods in the "original packages," was about as sudden. In fact, he had hardly set down the barrow, after removing it a few rods to its usual position, before I was addressing him. In the midst of the rifling process just described, I had seen him open the door of a small apartment near him, a light shining out for a moment while the door was open. And it occurred to me that an accomplice might be secreted there for the purpose of receiving the stolen property. Accordingly I remarked that I would like to have him accompany me for a moment into this room on private business, to which he readily assented, neither knowing me, nor having any suspicion of the nature of my "business," for otherwise he might not have so cheerfully complied with my request. On opening the door I discovered a person within, who appeared to be wholly unoccupied, except in smoking a cigar. Thinking it probable that he was in some way connected with the robberies, I considered it prudent to obtain assistance before making known the object of this interview, and accordingly spoke to three or four persons who had been attracted to the place by the unwonted movements, requesting them to call one of the police officers, some of whom were generally in the vicinity of that rail road station. [Illustration] During this delay, and in order to prevent any attempt at escape, I put a series of questions to the baggage-master, calculated to allay the suspicion which began to be strongly indicated by his looks. "Did you," I inquired, "find, in this morning's train from H----, a pocket-book, lost there by a passenger? If we can recover the papers, the money is less of an object." This seemed to relieve his fears considerably, and he replied in a cheerful tone, "I have found no such thing. It isn't my business to go through the trains, but this man's," pointing to the other person present. "Ah, it's my mistake. Did _you_ see anything of a pocket-book," I asked, turning to the person indicated. "No," was the answer; "have you lost such an article?" I was relieved from the difficulty of this question by a rap on the door from the Chief of Police, who was the man of all others whom I wished to see. As he entered, I intimated to him, in a whisper, what was on foot, and then turning to the baggage-master, without any preamble or formality, I requested him to hand me the mail-key, which he had in his possession. "I haven't any mail-key," was the dull response. "Very well," said I, "then we shall have to search you." He turned pale, and remarked, with assumed calmness, "I suppose I know what you want."