It occurred to Harvey that Jim had done his work well. But then, Jim's orders, however brief, were always understood. Harvey motioned the others to be silent, and tiptoed across the floor. He listened as Mattison had done, then passed on to the President's door. Cautiously he drew a bunch of keys from his pocket, and feeling for the right one he slipped it into the lock, threw open the door, and darted into the office. Mattison and the detective followed, stumbling over chairs, and colliding with the door to the inner office, which had closed after Harvey. In the dim light they could see two figures struggling in the passage by the vault. While Mattison sprang forward, Mallory quickly lighted the gas. The light showed that Harvey had crowded the fellow up against the vault door. The newcomer was a medium-sized man, rough-faced, and poorly clad. On the floor was a small leather grip, which evidently had been kicked over in the scuffle, for part of a burglar's kit was scattered about the passage. Mallory jerked the man's wrists together, slipped on the handcuffs, and led him out into the hall. In a moment the detective returned. “I left him with the boys, for the present. Case of common safe-cracking.” “Do you think so?” said Harvey, adjusting his cuffs, and moving the strange tools with his foot. “If he wanted money, I should think he would have tackled the vault downstairs.” Mallory stooped, and replaced the kit in the bag. Suddenly he said,-- “Raise your foot, Mr. West.” Harvey did so, and the detective arose with a dirty paper in his hand. He looked it over, and handed it to the others. It was a rough pencil sketch of the station building, showing the alley, the window, the Treasurer's office, and the vault. “What do you think of it?” asked Mallory. Harvey turned it over. A second glance showed it to be the front of an envelope, for part of an end flap remained. The upper left-hand corner had been torn off, evidently to remove the return card, but so hastily that a part of the card remained. Straightening it out, and holding it up to the light, Harvey read:-- ----esleigh, ----ster, Illinois. Mallory looked over his shoulder, and exclaimed:-- “That's easy. Hotel Blakesleigh, Manchester, Illinois.” “How does that help you?” asked Mattison. Harvey lowered the paper. “Don't you see,” he replied. “There are two good hotels here, the Illinois and the Blakesleigh. McNally is not at the Illinois.” He turned to the detective. “You'd better let the fellow go, Mallory.” “Why?” “Because it is the easiest way to handle it. Keep the tools, though.” “But I don't understand, Mr. West.” “Well, there is no use in discussing it. We won't prefer charges.” “But the man was caught in the act.” “He didn't get any thing, poor devil. No; we're after bigger game than this. We have enough for evidence. And don't sweat him.” “This is too deep for me, Mr. West. Surely there's no harm in questioning him, now that I've got him.”