head of the man, when he
crossed, so timing himself that he passed in front of the other just as
they both reached the street lamp. Taking a quick, but thorough look,
Wilson saw that it was not Mr. Mitchel, so abandoned the pursuit, going
back quickly towards the apartment-house. He had proceeded but a few
paces, when he met Mr. Mitchel coming rapidly towards him. Breathing a
sigh of relief, he passed, then crossed the street, and with his usual
skill readily kept Mr. Mitchel in sight till he entered the Fifth Avenue
Hotel. Wilson saw him take his key and go up-stairs, so that he felt
that his vigil was over for that night. Looking at his watch he noted
that it was just one o'clock. Going into the reading-room he wrote a
report of the day's occurrences and then calling a messenger, sent it
to head-quarters addressed to Mr. Barnes. This done he felt entitled to
hurry home for a short sleep--short, because he knew it would be his
duty to be on the watch again the next day, and until he received
further instructions from Mr. Barnes.

Mr. Barnes had immediately after his arrival obtained the requisition
papers for which he had telegraphed, and which he found awaiting him.
With these he had returned to Boston the same day, and obtaining his
prisoner succeeded in catching the midnight train once more, arriving in
New York with the loss of but a single day from the new case which so
absorbed all his interest.

Thus the morning after that on which the jewel robbery had been
discovered he entered his offices quite early, having delivered his
prisoner at police head-quarters.

When he read Wilson's letter, the only sign which he gave of
dissatisfaction was a nervous pull at one corner of his moustache. He
read the paper through three times, then tore it carefully into tiny
pieces, doing it so accurately that they were all nearly of the same
size and shape. Any one who should attempt to piece together a note
which Mr. Barnes had thus destroyed, would have a task. Standing by the
window he tossed them high in the air and saw them scattered by the
wind.

At half past eight o'clock he stood before the apartment-house in East
Thirtieth Street. The janitor was sweeping from the pavement a light
snow which had fallen in the early hours of the morning.

Mr. Barnes without speaking to the man walked into the vestibule and
scanned the names over the letter-boxes. None of them contained the one
which he sought, but there was no card i