"He carried in his hand a small satchel, which he dropped as soon as he saw that he was pursued. After an exciting chase, Flynn overtook his man, whom he recognized as Michael Quinlan, _alias_ Shorty Duff, a well-known sneak thief. On the way back to the bank the policeman questioned his prisoner about the pistol shots. Quinlan vehemently denied having fired them; but admitted that he had stolen the satchel. His story is that, as he was passing the bank, the outer door was ajar. Seeing the satchel in the vestibule, he entered, crouching low in order to avoid being seen through the inner door, the upper portion of which is of plate glass. Scarcely had he laid his hand upon the satchel when he was startled by the report of a pistol. For a moment he was dazed and undecided how to act. Then, as no one seemed to take any notice of his presence, he was quietly slipping off, when a second shot was fired. Panic-stricken, he took to his heels, only to be captured by Flynn. "On reaching the bank Flynn found the outer door closed but not fastened. The heavy iron gate between it and the inner door was securely locked, however, so that it was impossible to enter. The Knickerbocker bank has a second entrance on Exchange Place. But this, too, is protected by a massive iron gate, which also was found locked. Flynn rapped for assistance, and the call having been answered by Policemen Kirkpatrick and O'Donnell, he left the former to watch the Exchange Place door, and the latter to guard the entrance on Wall Street, while he took his prisoner to the police station. "Messengers were at once despatched to the house of Mr. Richard Dunlap, the president of the bank, and to that of Mr. George S. Rutherford, the cashier. The former was not at home, and the family being out of town, there was no one who knew where he was spending the evening." Every eye turned toward Richard Dunlap as this paragraph was read. His features remained impassive, under the full control of the veteran financier; but to an observant eye like Sturgis's, the man's real anxiety was betrayed by the unconscious action of his right hand, which lay upon the table and played nervously with a fork. "Yes," said the banker, carelessly, feeling the curious gaze of the other guests upon him, and answering their unspoken questions, "yes, that is true; I did not tell my housekeeper that I was invited to dine by our friend Sprague this evening. There was, of course, no reason why I should. Well, Doctor Murdock, did they find Rutherford?" Murdock had looked up while the banker was speaking. He now leisurely found his place and continued the reading of the article in the _Tempest_: