muddled up and excited. I came here to ask you to
say outright that you have had nothing to do with this thing."

"That is impossible."

"What, you refuse? You will not claim that you are innocent? Then you
practically admit that you are guilty!"

"I do not. I neither deny nor admit anything. Do you remember our wager?
I told you then that this crisis would arise. That you would hear of
some crime and come to ask me about it. I warned you that I would refuse
to enlighten you. I simply keep my word."

This was followed by a silence. Mr. Randolph seemed much disturbed.
Jamming his hands into his pockets he went and looked out of the
window. Mr. Mitchel looked at him for some minutes with a smile of
amusement hovering about his lips. Suddenly he said:

"Randolph, does your conscience trouble you?"

"Most decidedly!" answered his companion sharply, turning towards him.

"Why not go and unburden your soul to the police?"

"I think it is my duty to do so. But I feel like a coward at the idea.
It seems like betraying a friend."

"Ah! You still count me your friend. Then, my dear friend, for I assure
you I value your good will, I will show you how to act so as to satisfy
your conscience, and yet not injure me."

"I wish to heaven you would."

"Nothing easier. Go to Mr. Barnes and make a clean breast of all that
you know."

"But that is betraying you to the police."

"No; Mr. Barnes is not the police--he is only a private detective. If
you remember, he is the very one about whom we were talking when the
wager was made. You were boasting of his skill. It should satisfy you
then to have him on my track, and it will satisfy me, if you agree to
talk with no other. Is it a bargain?"

"Yes, since you are willing. I must tell some one in authority. It is
impossible for me to withhold what may be the means of detecting a
criminal."

Mr. Randolph, upon leaving the hotel, went in search of Mr. Barnes.
Meanwhile that gentleman was holding a conversation with Wilson.

"You say," said the detective, "that Mr. Mitchel gave you the slip
again yesterday afternoon?"

"Yes. He doubled so often on his tracks on the elevated road that at
last he eluded me, getting on a train which I failed to board. You see
it was impossible to tell, till the moment of starting, whether he would
take a train or not. He would mix with the crowd and seem anxious to get
on, and then at the last moment step back. I had to imitate him at the
other