“I don’t see where he can get any,” reflected the detective. “Dick Denton,” said Jack, “spoke to Skip last night, about returning the old man. Field has offered them large sums, several times, to do so. They would have done it long ago, I am thinking, only for the oath that binds them to Greer. I am certain that if Rusty Owens got the old bloke away from them, that he would have given him for the reward, unless the other side paid more.” “Well, now to work again!” cried Nick. “We must find the new hiding place!” CHAPTER XII. TWO VICTIMS. Through a politician, with whom he was acquainted, Wilbur Field--he called himself John Wilbur--obtained a pass to the Tombs, and, upon presenting it, was readily admitted. One of the officers on duty within the prison pointed out the cell occupied by Smith. It was situated at the end of an upper tier, and the visitor found the door open. Smith had plenty of money, and, of course, favor was shown him. He dined on the best that a neighboring restaurant could furnish, while less wealthy malefactors were forced to content themselves with meager prison fare. “Why, Wilbur,” said Tom, throwing down the paper he had been reading and rising from his cot. The visitor did not press the extended hand very warmly. “You don’t appear glad to see me,” the broker ventured. “I came from Norwalk to see you,” was the reply. “Where are my money and bonds?” “There are ten thousand dollars deposited in your name in the Bank of North America,” answered Smith. “Ten thousand! why, I gave you more than that to invest. Then there are the profits; they must amount to ten times that sum.” “Did you not hear about it?” the broker asked. “About what?” “The robbery of my safe by Elmer Greer and some of his friends.” “Elmer Greer!” exclaimed Wilbur; “did that vagabond rob you? I heard of an attempted robbery in your office.” “Oh, yes. Greer and the others were caught,” said Smith; “there are three of them on the tier below this. The police took the money from them and it is now at headquarters.” “I know all that,” remarked Wilbur, “but I did not know Greer was in the job. The rascal passed last night at my house. When I again meet him there will be a circus, and I’ll be the leading performer.” “Indeed, I would be glad if you killed him,” was the pious wish expressed by the broker. “Were it not for him, I wouldn’t be here. Like a fool I allowed him to draw me into the thing.” “I have all the sympathy in the world for you, Tom, but I haven’t got time to express it,” said the visitor. “I came here to talk business. I must have my money, that is the long and short of it.” “But I have none,” answered the prisoner. “The police have it all, except the ten thousand dollars, which I deposited subject to your order.” “You lie!” cried Wilbur, seating himself on the cot beside the broker. “What I say is the truth.”