Mrs. Monaghan subsequently married a man by the name of Breyer, is yet living, and can, if she will, substantiate every point I have given in reference to this night’s adventure in her residence. To make matters more complicated, a letter came with Mr. Franklin’s, from Linden, warning McKenna to look out, as he was suspected by one of the principal bankers of Shenandoah, of being a professional burglar, hanging about the city for no good purpose. So firmly fixed was the man of money and bonds in his belief, that he made the journey to Pottsville, interviewed a city detective, and tried hard to induce the officer to go to Shenandoah, see McKenna, and keep close watch of his movements. The capitalist said he could not tell when his vault might be attacked, and was fearful its valuable contents would fall, easy-made plunder, into the lap of that dreadful Irishman. Linden informed the Pottsville policeman that, although McKenna was rogue enough for almost anything, charged with a brutal murder in Buffalo, where he formerly knew him, and, as he believed, even then closely leagued with counterfeiters, yet he did not believe he would, or could, burst a burglar-proof safe. Linden further promised the banker’s friend that he would take the matter in hand, go over to Shenandoah, and see what McKenna really did intend. He “knew _he_ could worm the secret out of him.” Here the matter dropped. It was, after all, quite fortunate that this information met the detective when it did, as through it a plan was suggested to his sick brain by which he might easily depart from Shenandoah without engendering suspicion in the minds of the Mollies as to the real object in view. Dressing himself in his rougher attire, and packing a supply of better clothing in his valise, ready for starting, McKenna called on Frank McAndrew, in the afternoon, found a number of his friends present, and, taking the Bodymaster aside, held a short whispered consultation with him. “Faix, I hev very bad news this mornin’,” said the operative, assuming a solemn air, greatly in contrast with his usually radiant countenance. “Phat is it?” “I’ve got a letther from me sisther, an’, would ye belave it? them beggarly Buffalo detectives hev been to her house, in Philadelphia, watchin’ an’ spyin’ about, an’ finally axin’ fur me an’ me whereabouts!” “Indade? But I make sure your sister didn’t tell them?”