"You don't think he is likely to come in the back way?" he asked in a guarded undertone.

"There is not the slightest danger of his doing so. That would look suspicious. He will use the front door, so, if seen and challenged, he will be ready with the excuse that he has called on legitimate business of his own. At the same time, he will try to manage it so as not to be observed by any one. That watchman of yours is not the keenest-eyed fellow in the world."

Some time later, just as the town clock finished booming the hour of midnight, the officer touched the arm of his companion, who said,--

"I haven't noticed anything; what is it?"

"Did you hear some one walk past?"

"Yes; the footfall sounded plainly enough: what of it?"

"That is the third time that man has gone by. He is on the alert."

"It may have been different persons."

"It was the same man--sh! there he comes on the porch."

In the stillness of the night the sound was plainly heard. The next moment a key turned in the lock of the door, which was silently shoved inward.

The visitor, whoever he was, acted with the coolness of a professional. He entered by the main door, so, if it chanced that any one saw him, he could explain the cause of his visit. At the same time, he made as sure as was possible that no one did see him. Knowing the movements of the watchman, he waited until he was out of the way, with the certainty that he would not be back again under a half-hour at the least. That interval was more than sufficient to do all that he had in mind, and to take his departure.

He opened the door so quietly that, but for the warning rattle of the key, it would have been hard for the watchers to hear him. Almost before they knew it he stood inside with the door closed. Here the light fell upon him, and revealed his ident.i.ty to the men at the rear.

Neither was surprised. Although they had not mentioned their suspicions to each other, both were morally certain the thief would prove to be the man whom they now identified. G. Field Catherwood.

Walking quickly and softly across the floor to the private office, which opened off from the other end of the counter, the prospective partner of the business stooped down, turned the shining k.n.o.b of the safe round until the right combination had been struck, and swung back the immense, ma.s.sive door. Then from an inner drawer he drew the merchant's bank-book, in which were clasped several hundred dollars in bills. Two of the largest denomination--fifty each--were withdrawn, and the book returned to its place.

No veteran could have been cooler than Catherwood. He looked and acted no more like the exquisite on the steamboat than did Tom Gordon himself. He was the sleek, cunning, hypocritical villain he had always been, stealing, not because he was in need of money, but because it was his nature to do so.

"_Well, Mr. Catherwood, it looks as if the account will be a little short to-morrow_!"

The miscreant started as if he had heard the warning of a rattlesnake at his feet. Turning like a flash, he saw Mr. Warmore standing at his elbow.

Had he received but a few seconds' notice, he might have tried to bluff it out, by pretending he had come to look after some matters about which he was not fully satisfied. Holding the situation he did in the establishment, he could feel certain no one would suspect him of any sinister purpose.

But the exposure dropped like a thunderbolt. He had not an instant to prepare himself. He was caught in the act, and could explain nothing.

Mr. Warmore, upon seeing who the thief was, whispered to the detective,--

"Leave him to me; don't show yourself, unless he resists."

Before the shivering rogue could make protest, the merchant, suppressing his anger, said with a coolness which surprised himself as much as it did the officer crouching a few paces away, with his hand on his revolver,--

"We will call the amount stolen an even thousand dollars, Mr. Catherwood.

How soon will you be prepared to restore it?"

"Why--why--why"--

"As a beginning, suppose you return that which you have just taken."

Catherwood did as ordered without a word.

"Now re-lock the safe. Be sure you have the right combination. No one knows it besides you and me. I will give you a week in which to send back the rest."

G. Field Catherwood was recovering his nerve. He was furious with himself that he had been so completely knocked out.

"Suppose I don't choose to return it, what then?"

"It will be ten years or more in State prison."

"Bah! you will have a sweet time proving anything against me."

"I have a witness at hand."

"W-w-what!"

"_Give me the word and I'll have the nippers on him before you can say Jack Robinson_."

The detective, without rising to his feet or allowing himself to be seen, uttered these words in such a sepulchral tone that they almost lifted the hair on the head of the criminal. He started, and stared affrightedly back in the gloom.

"What do you say?" asked the merchant.

"It's all right; it's all right. I'll send it to you as soon as I can get back to the city. Don't be too hard on a fellow, Warmore. I declare"--

"Enough has been said. Now go!"

He went.

"You are too tender-hearted," remarked Detective Lathewood, when he and Mr. Warmore were walking homeward.

"Perhaps I am; but mean as is the man, I shuddered at the thought of disgracing and ruining him for life."

"But it was _he_, not _you_, who does that."

"True; I know that's the way you officers of the law look at it. But this is not the first time I have had dealings with young men who have yielded to temptation. I think it is safer to err on the side of charity than that of sternness. It is better to reform than to punish a man."

"Do you think you have reformed that specimen?"

"Far from it; he is the most contemptible scoundrel I ever knew. He is rich, and therefore has no excuse for stealing. Worse than all, he tried to ruin a young man whose shoe-latchet he is not worthy to unloose."

"So you unloose _him_. But let him go. He is certain not to trouble you or any of your family again."

Two days later Mr. Warmore received a certified check for nine hundred dollars; and thus the account between him and G. Field Catherwood was closed. He was never seen in Bellemore again. Ten years later he died, while travelling abroad with a woman whom he had made his wife. Then, for the first time, Tom Gordon learned the particulars of the night when Mr.

Warmore a.s.sisted the detective.

Let us take one more, and the final, leap forward. Three years have pa.s.sed since Tom Gordon checked runaway Jack, and saved the life of pretty Jennie Warmore. They have been three years of undimmed happiness to both; for during the last one of those years they two became man and wife.

Oh, it all came about so naturally, that you would not care to know the particulars. Tom was given a share in the business which he had done so much to develop; and on the day previous to his wedding his prospective father-in-law presented him with a half interest, thus insuring him a handsome income for life.

Tom made one condition, which was carried out in spirit and letter. Mr.