'Oh I she lives in ---- street.' 'Do you know the number?' 'Goodness, yes; it is number 34. I have boarded there myself until only a little while ago.' 'Indeed!' 'Yes, I have got a dead-latch key somewhere about.' 'The deuce you have! Give it to me; it is just what I want.' 'Give you a dead-latch key! a pretty notion!' 'I wouldn't give it to any man--not to all the detective squad in New York.' 'Look here, my friend, I am M----, pretty well known in this town. I have a good many opportunities in the course of my business to do people good turns, and not a few to do them ill turns. It is a convenient vocation to pay off scores, particularly to persons of your sort. If you will give me that key, I'll make it worth your while the first chance I have. If you don't, you'll be sorry; that's all." I gave him a significant look as I concluded. He looked me in the face a minute--as if to see how much I meant, or if I suspected anything; then turned and ran up stairs. In a few moments he came down, and handed me the key. I took it with satisfaction. 'Now,' said I, 'you'll have no objections to telling me where your sister-in-law's room in the house is.' 'Third story, back room, second door to the left from the head of the stairs.' 'Thank you, good night.' We walked rapidly to ---- street, and reaching the house, I stopped a moment to examine my pistols, by the street lamp, and then softly opened the door. Clarke and I stepped in, and I shut the door. Leaving my comrade in the hall, I crept noiselessly up stairs, and tapped at the door of the room. 'Who is there?' called out a woman's voice. 'Open the door,' I replied, 'and I'll tell you what I want.' 'You can't come in. I have gone to bed.' 'Oh, well, I am a married man; I'll do you no harm; but you must let me in, or I shall force the door.' After a moment's delay the door was opened by a young woman in a morning wrapper, who stood as if awaiting an explanation of the intrusion. I passed by her, and walked up to a young man sitting in a low chair by the fire, and tapping him on the shoulder, said: 'You are my prisoner.' He raised his head and looked up. 'Why, Bill,' I exclaimed, 'is this you? I have been looking for you all night under a wrong name. If I had known it was you, I'd have caught you in an hour.' And so I would. It is only necessary to say further, that he was the man I was set to catch. I may add, however, that a large amount of the counterfeit notes, and the plates on which they were printed, were secured, and the criminal sent to Sing Sing in due course of law. LITERARY NOTICES. FLOWER FOR THE PARLOUR AND GARDEN. By EDWARD SPRAGUE RAND, jr. Boston: J.E. Tilton & Co. Price $2.50.