“Just as you say, John. I confess my head is slightly rattled to-night--it shall be as you suggest,” and he proceeds to write at the table on the back of the message he had received. Finally John jumps up. “There you are, father,” handing him a check. “We will arrange the minor details to-morrow.” “It is all right, John--you have saved the old house of Samson Cereal--God bless you, my boy!” But it is far from being all right as yet, and Aleck realizes this when he hears the library door suddenly pushed back. CHAPTER XXI. AN ACCOMMODATING SHERIFF. Turning his head at hearing the door open Aleck sees one whom he knows, and a cold chill passes over him as he recognizes the face of the Colorado colonel. Bob Rocket steps into the library and closes the door behind him. This action of course attracts the attention of all concerned, and the Western sheriff finds himself the cynosure of inquiring eyes. John’s hand is stayed in the very act of handing the check to his father--the smile remains on Dorothy’s face, and as for the old speculator, he looks with displeasure upon the interloper. “I beg your pardon, gentlemen, ladies,” says the other in his bass voice, speaking very slowly and methodically, “but a stern sense of duty compels me to break in upon your family party.” “Duty, Colonel Rocket!” exclaims the speculator, turning red with rising wrath. “That was what I said, sir. Duty with me must always rise even above the courtesy a guest owes to his host. You were kind enough to invite me to your house to-night, Mr. Cereal, and it served my purpose to accept. I have passed a pleasant evening. I thank you for it. But, sir, that shall not stand in the way of my fulfilling the mission which brought me to Chicago.” “Indeed!” “And has even taken me to this house.” “Rocket, have you been too often at the sideboard?” asks the great operator, frowning. “You see yourself, sir, that I am not under the influence of liquor. My hand is as steady as a die. I am sorry for you, Mr. Cereal--doubly sorry for this charming young lady----” “Hang it, Rocket, why mince matters? What the devil _do_ you want here?” “I’m coming to it gradually, sir. Don’t want the shock to be too severe. In the first place you don’t know, because I failed to tell you, that at present I am a sheriff out at Denver.” “A sheriff!” repeats Dorothy uneasily. “Denver, eh?” says John, arching his eyebrows. “I have been sent to Chicago on the track of a shrewd young scoundrel who has absconded with over fifty thousand dollars in funds.” “My God!” groans the old operator, for the striking similarity in the sums causes him to have a sudden horrible suspicion, which he endeavors to tear loose and cast away. Aleck darts a quick glance at John, and is surprised to see that the young man simply flushes a little under the meaning words of the sheriff.