“‘We have your signature,’ growled the old man as I went out. ‘If you peach on us or trouble us in any way we will show it to your father and that will put an end to all your hopes of future fortune.’ Then raising his voice he shouted to the girl in the outer office, ‘Let the young man see what he has signed.’ She smiled and again brought forward the book in which I had so recklessly placed my name, and there at the top of the page I read these words: ‘For moneys received, I agree to notify Levi Solomon, within the month, of the death of my father, that he may recover from me, without loss of time, the sum of ten thousand dollars from the amount I am bound to receive as my father’s heir.’ The sight of these lines knocked me hollow. But I am less of a coward morally than physically, and I determined to acquaint my father at once with what I had done, and get his advice as to whether or not I should inform the police of my adventure. He heard me with more consideration than I expected, but insisted that I should immediately make known to you my experience in this Bowery pawnbroker’s shop. “The officer, highly interested, took down the young man’s statement in writing, and, after getting a more accurate description of the Jew’s house, allowed his visitor to go. “Fortunately for me I was in the building at the time, and was able to respond when a man was called up to investigate this matter. Thinking that I saw a connection between it and the various mysterious deaths of which I have previously spoken, I entered into the affair with much spirit. But, wishing to be sure that my possibly unwarranted conclusions were correct, I took pains to inquire, before proceeding upon my errand, into the character of the heirs who had inherited the property of Elwood Henderson and Christopher Bigelow, and found that in each case there was one among the rest who was well known for his profligacy and reckless expenditure. It was a significant discovery, and increased, if possible, my interest in running down this nefarious trafficker in the lives of wealthy men. “Knowing that I could hope for no success in my character of detective, I made an arrangement with the father of the young gentleman before alluded to, by which I was to enter the pawn-shop as an emissary of the latter. I accordingly appeared there, one dull November afternoon, in the garb of a certain western sporting man, who, for a consideration, allowed me the temporary use of his name and credentials. “Entering beneath the three golden balls, with, the swagger and general air of ownership I thought most likely to impose upon the self-satisfied female who presided over the desk, I asked to see her boss. “‘On your own business?’ she queried, glancing with suspicion at my short coat, which was rather more showy than elegant. “‘No,’ I returned, ‘not on my own business, but on that of a young gent----’