I was, myself, now astonished. I realized that the man was an officer and that I had finally, in some manner, got into the clutches of the law. It all seemed so incredible that I did not undertake to make any reply to the man’s inquiry. He asked me to go with him and I put on my hat and went without a word. The circus was on that day at a rather large city. We took a street car to the post-office, a big, white building in the center of a public square. We got into the elevator and went up to the second floor. The man took me along a narrow hall and into a room which was entirely empty. Here he bade me wait, and went through a door into an adjoining room. I remained for some time quite alone. The sounds of the city came up to me, but I seemed in some deserted place far from any one. Finally the officer, who had arrested me, came back, opened the door and asked me to go in. He closed the door behind me and went out into the hall. I found myself in a big sunlit room. There was a table with several leather-bound books on it, some folded papers in their wrappers and some written memoranda, on sheets, lying about, and a chair where some one had just been sitting. Then I saw the other person in the room; a figure standing by the window; a big man with thick gray hair, tall and broad shouldered. He had been looking down into the street and now he turned about; his face lighted with a friendly, quizzical smile. The smile deepened; extended itself until it became a merry chuckle. “So you are the desperate train robber!” he said. “Well, sit down, Mr. Train Robber, I want to have a little conversation with you.” I was as embarrassed as a child and I sat down primly in the chair and put my hands together in my lap. I must have presented a ridiculous appearance, a big overgrown boy as uneasy as though he were being photographed for his mother. The man came over and sat down in his chair. He put his elbows on the table and looked at me across the line of books. “Is this all really true?” he said. “Yes, sir,” I replied. I knew of course what he meant although he made no explanation. “Well,” he said, “it is incredible; it is entirely beyond belief.” Then he got up and began to walk about the room. “My boy,” he said, “you have been associated with two of the worst crooks in the world and you have engaged in a desperate business. What do you suppose we ought to do with you?” “I don’t know,” I said. I was still greatly embarrassed and these were the only words I could think of. The big man stopped at that, put his hands in his pockets and looked at me: “Neither do I,” he said. Then he went on: “You have courage—a dependable sort of courage. It is a quality rare enough in the world; too rare, it seems to me, to be thoughtlessly broken up. I am going to try an experiment.