heart stood still, and strange, wild thoughts flashed through
his mind. He did not speak of certain facts at that moment, nor did he
make further inquiries. He had the one business on hand. He said:

"We have the robbers. It will be necessary for you to communicate with
the Italian consul-general and proceed in a regular and legal manner to
secure the extradition of the criminals."

"Yes, I will proceed at once."

The occurrences of the succeeding two weeks would not interest our
readers, as our hero's time and attention were devoted to the furnishing
of the evidence that was needed to extradite the robbers. As good luck
would have it, at the last moment, as is often the case, one of the men
"squeaked," as the vulgar professional saying has it; that is, made a
full confession implicating every one of his late pals. Then the road
was clear and our hero met the representative by appointment to receive
his reward and payment for services. Oscar was not unmindful of the
assistance he had received from Caroline Metti and she received a
handsome sum as her share, and she did not refuse it, for under the
advice of our hero she had determined upon her future course.

Having settled the matter as concerned Caroline Metti our hero said:

"There is one more party who comes in for recognition--a young man."

"Name him," said the representative. "I am prepared to liberally reward
every one who aided in the recovery of these precious heirlooms."

"I will not name the party. I will show you his picture, and you can
probably identify him yourself."

Our hero had secured the photograph of Alphonse Donetti. He handed it to
the representative in a careless manner, saying:

"That is a picture of the young man, and to him we are under great
obligations in this matter."

The instant the Italian saw and fixed his eyes on the picture he
recoiled like one gazing at a ghost. His eyes fairly bulged. He turned
pale, trembled like an aspen leaf, and attempted to speak, but his
tongue appeared to cleave to the roof of his mouth. He was unable to
speak. Oscar stood by, a look of delight and gratification expressed
upon his handsome face.

The detective waited. He desired to give the Italian time to recover his
composure, and finally, when the latter was able to speak, he asked in
gasping tones:

"Is the original of this picture alive?"

"He is."

"His name?"

"Alphonse Donetti."

"His parentage--do you know his parentage?"

"Why