I now determined to strike a blow at Maroney. Some idea of its power may be gained by imagining how a prisoner would feel upon receiving the news that, while he is languishing in prison, his faithless wife is receiving the unlawful attentions of a young gallant, and that everything indicates that they are about to leave for parts unknown, intending to take all his money and leave him in the lurch. This was exactly the rod I had in pickle for Maroney. I applied it through the following letter: "Nathan Maroney, Eldridge Street Jail, New York: "Ha! ha! ha! * * * * Your wife and the fellow with the long mustache and whiskers are having a glorious time, driving around in his buggy. "You have heard of Sanford? He loves you well. He is the one who moves the automaton with the whiskers and long mustache, and gives _your wife_ a _lover_ in Jenkintown. "You should _feel happy_, and so do I. The garden at night; honeyed words; the parting kiss! She loves him well! I _know you are happy_! "Good-bye! * * * * REVENGE!" Having written the document, I had it mailed from Jenkintown, through the assistance of friend Rivers. At Jenkintown all was going smoothly. De Forest was more loving than ever, and Madam Imbert found it almost impossible to have a private conversation with Mrs. Maroney, as she seemed always with him. When De Forest came to Philadelphia I had it suggested to him that it would be advisable to get Mrs. Maroney to walk or drive out with him in the evening. He immediately acted on the suggestion, and before long could be found almost every evening with her. Mrs. Maroney did not again allude to her valuables, and evidently felt perfectly easy in regard to them, considering that she had them safely secreted. One day, while Mrs. Maroney was in the cellar, Madam Imbert called. Mrs. Cox met her and said: "Sister is in the cellar; I will call her up." "Never mind," remarked the Madam, "I'll just run down to her," and stepped towards the cellar door. Mrs. Cox quickly interposed and said: "Oh! no; I will call her!" This little incident showed Madam Imbert that something was going on which they did not want her to know. Mrs. Maroney soon came up, said she was delighted to see her, and did not look at all confused. Rivers, Cox, Horton and Barclay had formed themselves into a quartette club and were nearly always together. Rivers's arm had not healed as yet, and he still wore it in a sling. Cox and he were on the best of terms, and the Jenkintowners regarded him, as well as the other detectives, as permanent residents. De Forest was happy beyond expression, and Mrs. Maroney seemed equally so. She wrote letters daily to her husband and often spoke of Madam Imbert and how deeply she felt for her, bowed down with care and alone in the world. She very seldom alluded to De Forest and never spoke of his being her constant companion.