“Have you brought in any suspicious characters?” “Six or seven.” “I’d like to have a look at them. If New York crooks pulled off this graft I may be able to recognize one of the suspects.” The prisoners were brought in. They were all of the “bum” variety, and their faces were unfamiliar. “Better let them go,” said Nick; “they’re not concerned.” The chief was surprised. “What makes you think they’re not concerned in the robbery?” he asked. “Not one of the seven knows enough. If hoboes did this job, they are of a different caliber from those you have run in. And, last but not least, they’d have different hands.” “Different hands?” echoed the amazed officer. Nick nodded. “A tramp who uses an ax, or a buck-saw, to earn a meal, has a palm entirely unlike a cracksman.” “But you didn’t look at their hands!” “Yes, I did,” smiled Nick. “Now, if you please, I would like to see the patrolman who found Gardner.” “You seem pretty well posted, Mr. Carter.” “I read the newspapers pretty carefully.” The patrolman was brought in, but the interview with him developed nothing of importance. From police headquarters the detective went to the home of Alonzo Burton, the bank watchman. Burton had his head bandaged, and was lying on a lounge in his little front parlor. The air of the room was impregnated with a smell of arnica, and a buxom young woman was moving about the place, waiting upon the sufferer. Burton told the ruse by which he had been lured out upon the sidewalk. He could give only a general and indefinite description of the man in the frock coat and silk hat, and could give no description whatever of the man’s companion. Like the other watchman, Burton had been knocked insensible very early in the game. “They are old hands,” thought Nick, as he went away from the watchman’s house. “Too bad that I am twenty-four hours late in reaching the scene. It is a serious handicap.” He was bound for the bank, now, and in approaching the bank building he came from the rear. Halting at the alley, he looked in. “Twenty or thirty paces,” he mused, recalling the statement made by Gardner. He counted off twenty paces and then saw, a few feet in front of him, on the right side of the alley, evidences of the struggle that had taken place there. The feet of ruthless people had trodden ruthlessly about and over the spot, but the evidences had not been entirely obliterated. The building on the right was a one-story structure, occupied by a grocery. At the rear was a heap of empty boxes, and close to one of these boxes a dark stain of blood marked the place where the watchman had lain. Nick searched the vicinity carefully. The outlook for evidence was unpromising, but he knew very well that appearances were not always to be trusted. In a quarter of an hour he had gone over the ground thoroughly, and under the edge of one of the boxes he had found a square card.