one to New York on business, but came back to Philadelphia
the next day.

When he saw that he was caught Pat Malone broke down utterly and made a
full confession, telling in detail how the plot against Maurice Vane had
been carried out.

"It was not my plan," said he. "Gaff Caven got the mining shares and he
arranged the whole thing."

"Where did you get the shares--steal them?" demanded Maurice Vane,
sharply.

"No, we didn't steal them. We bought them from an old miner for fifty
dollars. The miner is dead now."

"Can you prove this?"

"Yes."

"Then do so."

"Why?"

"I don't care to answer that question. But if you can prove to me that
you and Caven came by those shares honestly I won't prosecute you,
Malone."

"I will prove it!" was the quick answer, and that very afternoon Pat
Malone proved beyond a doubt that the shares had belonged to himself and
Gaff Caven when they sold them to Maurice Vane.

"That is all I want of you," said Maurice Vane. "I shan't appear against
you, Malone."

"Then those shares must be valuable after all?" queried the swindler.

"Perhaps they are. I am having them looked up. I am glad of this
opportunity of proving that they are now my absolute property."

"If Caven and I sold you good stocks we ought to be kicked full of
holes," grumbled Malone.

"That was your lookout, not mine," returned Maurice Vane. "Mind, I
don't say the shares are valuable. But they may be, and if so I shall be
satisfied with my bargain."

"Humph! where do I come in?"

"You don't come in at all--and you don't deserve to."

"If I didn't swindle you, you can't have me held for swindling."

"I don't intend to have you held. You can go for all I care."

Maurice Vane explained the situation to the police authorities and that
evening Pat Malone was allowed to go. He threatened to have somebody
sued for false imprisonment but the police laughed at him.

"Better not try it on, Malone," said one officer. "Remember, your
picture is in our Rogues' Gallery," and then the rascal was glad enough
to sneak away. The next day he took a train to Baltimore, where, after
an hour's hunt, he found Gaff Caven.

"We made a fine mess of things," he said, bitterly. "A fine mess!"

"What are you talking about, Pat?" asked Caven.

"Do you remember the mining stocks we sold to Maurice Vane?"

"Certainly I do."

"Well, he has got 'em yet."

"All right, he can keep them. We have his money too," and Gaff Caven
chuc