at the top is the
picture of the new one-hundred-thousand-dollar court-house, and beside
the court-house picture are these words: "Office of Jacob Dolan,
Custodian of Public Buildings and Grounds of Garrison County." Mr. Dolan
will be writing a letter, and so long as it begins with "Dear Sir," and
nothing more endearing, surely we may look over his shoulder while he
writes,--even though it is bad form. And as Mr. Dolan will be writing to
"Robert Hendricks, care of Cook's Hotel, Cairo, Egypt,"--which he spells
with an "i," but let that pass, and let some of his literary style and
construction pass with it,--and as he will be writing to Mr. Hendricks,
perhaps Miss Nancy may do well to go sit in the corridor and put her
fingers in her ears while we read. For Mr. Dolan is an emotional man,
and he is breathing hard, and by the way he grabs his pen and jabs it
into the ink one can see that he is angry.

"DEAR SIR (begins Mr. Dolan): I take my pen in hand to answer yours
of this date from New York and would have written you anyhow, as
there is much on my mind and I would cable you, but I can't, being
for the moment short of funds. I write to say, Robert, that we have
Mart Culpepper in jail--right across the hall. He came in at nine
o'clock to-night, and the damn Pop judge put his bail at $15,999 to
cover his alleged shortage, and the stinker won't accept us old boys
on the bond--Phil and Watts and Os and the Company 'C' boys I could
get before the judge went to bed, and Gabe Carnine, the gut, would
not sign--would not sign old Mart's bond, sir, and I hope to be in
hell with a fishpole some day poking him down every time his slimy
fingers get on the rim of the kettle. But we'll have him out in the
morning, if every man in Garrison County has to go on the bond. They
say Mart received money to pay four or five mortgages due to a
Vermont Bank, and they sent a detective here about a month ago and
worked up the case, and closed his business to-day and waited until
to-night to arrest him. I've just come from Mart. It's hell. Hoping
this will find you enjoying the same I beg my dear sir to sign
myself

"Your ob't s'r'v't J. DOLAN."

When Jacob Dolan finished his letter, he addressed the envelope and
hurried away to mail it. And so long as we are here in the
court-house, and the custodian is gone, would you like to step in and
see Martin Culpepper across