Mr. Mountain placed his hand in his pocket, and, taking out an envelope, took out a check, holding it in his hand. The Brown Robin, in the act of drawing a paper from the breast of her dress, stopped. “A check! Is this a trick, or is it your ignorance?” “Why, yes, a check drawn to my own order for fifty thousand dollars, and indorsed by me. You did not tell me in what shape you wanted it.” “True. But you must have understood.” Suddenly she flew into a violent passion, in which she declared that she would ruin him, really frightening Mr. Mountain. He tried to soothe her, and in doing so admitted that he had thought a check would not do. “I did bring fifty thousand in bills with me. It is in a package that I left in the Park Avenue Hotel. I can destroy this, and get the package in ten minutes.” “And bring a horde of officers down on me?” “No; you can accompany me, or that young man who brought me here can.” “That young man was myself, you fool.” “Then go with me yourself.” The Brown Robin thought a moment, and finally said: “I will.” She called for her hat and coat, which was brought by a servant, and to that servant she handed the confession, to retain until she returned. She led the way out of the house in an energetic way, and, when they reached the hotel, entered the office with the broker. “Now get it,” she said, stopping within twenty feet of the desk. “No tricks. I shall watch, and my punishment will be swift, no matter what occurs to me.” Mr. Mountain went off and passed into the private office behind the counter or desk, and for a brief second was lost to sight to the Brown Robin, as he passed behind a high safe. But she saw him go with the clerk to the safe and receive a package, and return with it to her. Without a word she led the way out of the hotel and back to the house they had just left. Entering the parlor again, Mr. Mountain tore off the wrapper to show the bills within, and held it out to her. She called for the confession, and, receiving it from the servant, held it out to Mr. Mountain, who took it as she took the package of bills. Mr. Mountain assured himself it was the original by a hasty glance. The Brown Robin was tearing the wrapper from the package. When she opened it and shifted the bills she fairly screamed. The package was a dummy, only one bill being on the top. She sprang forward, but she faced two revolvers leveled at her. “You are my prisoner, Brown Robin. I am not Mr. Mountain, but Chick Carter, the detective. Mr. Mountain stayed at the hotel that he went to with you. I came in his place.” The woman stepped on the button she had boasted of, and bells sounded in the house. At the same instant Chick gave a shrill whistle. A door crashed in and the plate glass of a front window was broken by the heavy blows of a hammer. Patsy sprang through the window, with revolvers up, and Nick Carter through the door, followed by Mr. Mountain.