Another thing disturbed him. The tough-looking strangers whom he had observed loitering about the depot-saloons for several days past, had suddenly disappeared. He had made discreet inquiries, but no one seemed to know who they were or what had become of them. Where had they gone, he asked himself; where were they at this moment? He had heard some vague rumours of the row at the brotherhood meeting, and he could imagine Bassett’s rage and chagrin. He had always connected the strangers with Bassett, in some indefinite way, and a little shiver shook him at the thought that perhaps Bassett had taken them with him to execute some fiendish project. Perhaps— The piercing note of a watchman’s whistle shrilled through the night, and Stanley, waking from this reverie with a start, saw a sudden burst of flame from the cars just before him, and realized that the crisis he had vaguely expected was at hand. And the realization made his nerves taut and his head clear. Not even his worst enemies had ever accused Stanley of cowardice in the face of danger. “Call the fire department and the police and get out all our men!” he shouted to the freight-house watchman, who had just come into view again, and started with a jump toward the fire, which was growing brighter every instant. But suddenly he checked himself and swerved in his course, for from beneath the platform almost at his feet, he saw a dim form emerge and slink away through the darkness. [Illustration: “HE HEARD THE BULLETS SING PAST HIS HEAD.”] Stanley was off the platform and after him in an instant. “Halt!” he shouted, drawing his revolver. “Halt, or I fire!” And, as if in answer, phitt! phitt! came two flashes of flame out of the darkness ahead, and he heard the bullets sing past his head. “Take it, then!” he said, between his teeth, and fired at the legs of the figure ahead. The figure ran on, and Stanley raised his hand to fire again; but in a moment he saw that this would not be necessary, for the fugitive was no match for him in speed and he gained upon him rapidly. Apparently, the stranger perceived the folly of flight, at last, for he stopped, one hand against his side, and waited for his pursuer to overtake him. He had not long to wait, for in an instant Stanley’s heavy hand fell upon his shoulder. “Drop that revolver!” said the detective, and knocked it with a quick blow from his prisoner’s hand. “Oh, it’s jammed,” said the other, with a little bitter laugh. “If it hadn’t been fer that, I’d ’a’ got you!” “What’s your game?” Stanley demanded, and swung his prisoner around so that he could see his face. “Why,” he cried, chuckling with satisfaction, “if it ain’t our old friend Hummel! This certainly is a pleasant meeting. Welcome to our city!” Hummel’s face was livid and his blackened and swollen lips were drawn away from his teeth in an ugly snarl. “Don’t be too gay!” he said, thickly. “Don’t be too gay! Mebbe you’ll be laughin’ on the other side of your face afore long!”