Though the recital of this incident occupies some little time in the telling, it was all accomplished in the space of a few seconds, and as soon as I found myself mixed up with the traffic outside I considered I was safe from pursuit--if, indeed, it had ever been likely any attempt would be made by the sharpers to run me to earth. I reached my uncle’s place of business an hour or two later than I should have done in the ordinary course, but gave some plausible excuse for my delay. He was inclined to be angry at first, but as I produced the money all right he did not pursue the matter further, although it was not until a considerable time afterwards that I ventured to give any of my relations an account of my exciting adventure with the card-sharpers. III.--“SEEING IT OUT.” BY ALBERT E. MACGROTTY. The simple-minded and innocent Britisher may, on his first trip to the States, now and then walk into a very pretty little trap, neatly and carefully planned, like the web of the wily spider in wait for the inoffensive, curiosity-prompted, blundering fly. I suppose I must have a somewhat unsophisticated aspect, which disguises all my dark and deep wisdom, and this appearance caused me to be selected as the victim of the little adventure I am going to recount. It was at the close of my first visit to the States, and the day previous to my embarking for old England--all my business finished, and nothing to do but to say “Good-bye” to my friends and take a last look round. I left the Astor House, valise in hand, and walked to the steamer _Teutonic_ lying alongside the wharf, ready to sail for Liverpool on the following day. Having put my bag in my state-room, I strolled into Houston Street with the intention of getting on a cable car for the Broadway, where I was to lunch with a cousin. No cable car being in sight, I leisurely lit a cigar and turned round to inspect the goods in a store window. I had not been gazing therein more than a moment when I heard a buggy drive up and stop behind me, and someone shout, “Hey!” I paid no attention, being almost a stranger in New York, and not supposing that the call was addressed to me, especially as Houston Street is one of the most crowded thoroughfares in the city. The call was repeated, but still I took no notice. When I had finished my inspection of the window I turned round, and to my astonishment saw that a respectable-looking man in the buggy was endeavouring to attract my attention. I went up to him and asked what his business was with me; he replied that he wished to know if I could tell him when the steamer left for England. “Do you mean the _Teutonic_?” I said, and he answered, “Yes.” “To-morrow morning at seven,” I replied. He thanked me, and was just whipping up his horse to drive on, when he suddenly pulled up again sharply, and said:--