city, which Jasper did in Mr.
Fitch's counting-room.

"Come back when your business is over," said the merchant.

"I will," said Jasper.

He set out with one hundred and fifty dollars in his pocket for 132
S---- Street.

We will precede him.

It was a shabby house of two stories, with a wide front. It looked
dilapidated and neglected, but except that it was in an unsavory
neighborhood there was nothing to draw attention to it, or lead to the
impression that it was the haunt of lawbreakers and desperate
characters.

In a back room sat three men, one of whom we recognize as the kidnapper,
Dick, alias Mark Mortimer. Of the other two, one was under twenty-five,
with a reckless, dare-devil look, as of one who would stop at little in
his criminal schemes. He had more than once been engaged in burglary,
but as yet had escaped detection.

The third was a stout, square-built man, of middle age, with a heavy,
brutal face, such as might belong to a prize-fighter. He, too, was a
burglar, an accomplished counterfeiter, a gambler, who supplemented luck
by various swindling devices, in which he was an adept. This man was
known as Slippery Bill, while his young companion was Jack, with a
choice of last names.

The three men were playing a game of euchre, with a pack of greasy
cards. The time was half-past eleven in the forenoon.

"It's most time for the boy to come," said Dick, looking toward the
clock.

"How do you know but he'll give you the slip?" suggested Jack.

"If he did I'd break his neck!" exclaimed Dick, hastily. "But he won't.
Leastways he won't if he can help it."

"It strikes me, Dick," said Bill, "that you ought never to have asked
him to come here."

"Why not?"

"Who's to tell but he may bring company?" continued the stout man.

"What kind of company?"

"The police."

"He won't," said Dick.

"How do you know?"

"I'll trust him. He's a good 'un."

"How long have you known him, that you speak with so much confidence?"
inquired the younger man.

"Since yesterday morning," answered Dick, cornered.

The two men burst into a boisterous laugh.

"Why, Dick, you're as innocent as a baby. You haven't knowed this chap
more'n twenty-four hours, and you'll stake your life on him."

"Laugh as much as you like," said Dick, stubbornly. "I ought to speak up
for my own nephew."

"Your nephew!" exclaimed his two companions, in surprise. "What do you
mean?"

"What I say. He's my sister's son."

"A mi