While he waited for the arrival of the train, marvel as he might, he
could not solve the riddle connected with the strange return of his
purse that had so mysteriously managed to come back to its rightful
owner after having disappeared at a place five hundred miles removed
from Dixon, Illinois.

He rode to Chicago on the same train upon which the government officers
were bringing the corpse of the slain robber, and while Boston Frank was
chained to a seat in the smoking car, Joe sat silently in the
first-class coach, thinking of the lucky escape he had had and ever and
anon repeating the oath he had made to the now lifeless clay in the
baggage car ahead.

While Joe was thus occupied he must have attracted the attention of one
of the train men, who good-naturedly stopped to chat with him, and
inquired where he was going. Joe told him that Chicago was his
destination, and innocently added that he intended to find employment in
the city. "Say, kid," the good-natured brakeman advised him, more as a
huge joke than in a serious vein, "if you cannot find anything better,
hit my boss for a job." And then he gave Joe the correct address of his
superior.

When the train arrived at the Chicago terminal, Joe boarded a street car
that brought him quickly to the flat where he intended to acquaint its
inmates with the misfortune that had overtaken Slippery and Boston
Frank, and also to deliver the verbal message the latter had given him.
To his surprise he found the front of the house in which the flat was
located kept clear of public traffic by a cordon of policemen, while
several police patrols were backed against the curb, and were not only
loaded with the handcuffed criminals, who had been caught like rats in a
trap, upon the telegraphic advice of the Dixon police authorities, but
with thousands of dollars worth of stolen property that had been found
in trunks and other hiding places.

While Joe stood in the crowd watching the finish of those who had
transgressed the law, with far better reasons than the curious idlers
about him could suspect, he felt someone sharply pull his coat sleeve.
He felt himself turning ashen-gray from fright as he thought some
detective had recognized him, and when the same sharp pull was repeated,
trembling with fear, he turned to see who it was that knew him in
Chicago, and recognized that his dread was groundless as it was "Babe"
who had pulled his sleeve, the youngest girl in the den of the th