“Well, can’t you see him now, and ask him to let us into a room and send for Mr. Mountain?” “Sure.” Patsy went off, and in a few moments was back again, saying it was all arranged. He led Chick into a room opening off the lobby, and when the door was closed Patsy laughed and said: “This job was easy enough, Chick, but the hard part was to convince our friend that I was the one I said I was. He knows Mountain, so that is all right.” At this moment the door opened, and a short, rather stout man, with a sharp, bright, masterful face, entered, looking keenly about. “The great mogul over all here,” whispered Patsy. It was indeed the great theatrical manager of the day. “Which one is Patsy?” he asked. Patsy stood up, and the great manager looked him over keenly. Then he laughed heartily, and shook hands with the lad. “Patsy,” he said, “I think I shall have to engage you to teach makeup to my young people. Yours is a triumph of art.” Directing the boy in attendance to make the two comfortable, he went out. Shortly after, a bell sounded in the room. “The act is over,” said Chick; “now for Mountain.” They did not wait long, for the door soon opened and Mr. Mountain, in evening attire, entered. He looked at the two with the air of one who had expected to find acquaintances and had met strangers. “Mr. Mountain,” said Chick, “we are two of Nick Carter’s men.” “The woods are full of them, then,” said Mr. Mountain, seriously, “for this is the second time I have been accosted by them.” “Do you mean,” asked Chick, “that the one who spoke to you after the first act said he was one of Nick Carter’s men?” “That’s what he did.” “For Heaven’s sake!” exclaimed Chick. “I hope you gave him no confidence.” “I did not. I told him that I did not know whether he was or not, and I would not talk to him until I knew or he proved it. Then I told him that when I knew him to be one of Nick Carter’s men I would have nothing to do with him, or Nick Carter, either, for I had been warned against all. And that’s what I say to you.” “You do not recognize me, then, Mr. Mountain?” “I do not.” Chick stood up, and quickly removed his mustache and wig. “How now, Mr. Mountain?” “There’s no doubt of it now,” laughed Mr. Mountain. “I am Patsy, Mr. Mountain,” said the lad, “but I can’t take off my makeup so quickly or put it on again.” “Well, boys,” said Mr. Mountain, “what’s in the wind?” “We have been detailed by the chief to watch over you, Mr. Mountain,” said Chick. “He had a notion that you would get your notice to-night.” “He was right. I did.” “When?” “See here, Chick,” said Mr. Mountain, “Carter told me that if I was questioned I must deny having anything to do with him or his men.” “That’s all right, Mr. Mountain,” said Chick. “The chief has a notion that they do not know that you have retained him, and he wants to keep the thing quiet. I hope you did not let on to that young man that you had relations with us.” “Why?”