“Just now he is endeavoring to do reparation for a wrong to which he was a party.” “Was Kidd in the job?” “Yes--the prime mover.” “Have you arrested him?” “Not yet.” “When Dick comes to find out that Cook has gone back on him there will be some hair pulling, or I lose my guess.” “What do you mean?” “That Kidd will have Enoch’s scalp,” replied Mike. “I guess Cook is fully able to protect himself.” “He may be.” “Some time ago you denied knowing Dick Kidd; now you speak of him as a firm acquaintance,” remarked Burt. “I’ll tell you how it is.” “Don’t; I haven’t time to listen to explanations,” said Burt. “Come.” “Must I go?” “You don’t suppose I am joking with you, my man?” “I wish to Heaven it were a joke!” said the dive-keeper. “So do I, for your sake. I do not like to help forward a man to the gallows.” The gallows! At mention of that Quick felt his blood run cold. He had always considered himself courageous in a marked degree. It was that his brutal instincts blinded his reason. At bottom he was not as brave as the ordinary man. Now he felt limp. There was no ray of hope in his mind. Why had he allowed the detective to make him a prisoner so easily? He regretted being so docile. Better to have been shot and killed by Burt than to die on the scaffold. The man worked himself into such a nervous condition that finally he became terror-stricken. “Burt,” he said, “I will give you everything I possess in the world for one hour of freedom.” “You know very well I cannot consider such an offer.” If Burt had had the slightest doubt of the man’s guilt it vanished now. He never saw a more guilty-looking being. Quick trembled in every limb and his knees became weak. Burt feared the fellow was going to collapse. “I am not guilty!” The murderer’s voice was low and husky. “We will leave that for the court to decide,” said Burt. Then he inserted his arm within that of his prisoner and led him from the place. That was Mike Quick’s last farewell to the dive over which he so long presided. At the same time that Mike was being led to prison another affair in which we are interested was taking place. The scene was a café on Bleecker Street and the parties Pierre Jacquet and Mr. Richard Kidd. The latter had moved his place of residence to that quarter. Only the day before Pierre had been discharged from the hospital as cured. The meeting of the pair was purely accidental. Kidd was engaged eating breakfast when the man he had wronged entered. At sight of Dick the Frenchman gave a great start. Then he conjured up a pleasant smile. Kidd grew ghastly pale as Jacquet approached him. He had no weapon and he cursed himself for leaving his room without arming himself, as was his custom. Pierre seated himself at the same table and opposite Dick. “You do not seem to have much appetite, monsieur.” Kidd glanced apprehensively at the other. Jacquet’s face still wore a smile.