ience and skill in detective work.

"Let's take a little of their whisky," said the man. "It's about all we
can get out of this game."

Oscar, having set out to be led, rose from the table, cashed in his
checks, as his whilom friend did, and followed to the sideboard where
they were joined by the second man, and number one said:

"My friend Thatford. I don't know your name, sir."

"Woodford Dunne," answered our hero promptly.

"Yes, I've heard the name. I reckon you are acquainted with some friend
of mine, for I've certainly heard the name."

The men had poured out their drink, when number one, who had announced
his own name as Girard, said:

"That's mighty poor whisky. It's like the game--bad."

Thatford said:

"Let's go and have a little lunch and a good drink to wash out that vile
stuff."

"Will you go with us?" said Girard.

"You must excuse me, gentlemen; I am a stranger. I cannot thrust myself
upon you."

"It's no thrusting; we would be glad to have you join us. Thatford and
I are no strangers in New York. Really, I am glad to have met you. I
know a good fellow when I meet him. I am a sort of mind reader in
picking out thoroughbreds."

"If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I will decline your invitation. I
thought I'd drop around to the theater and see the closing act."

"That ain't a bad scheme. We'll go with you and have a little cold snack
afterward."

As the men had invited our hero to accompany them he could not well
refuse to permit them to accompany him, especially in view of the little
plan he had settled to act in regard to them.

The three men did proceed to a theater, and our hero was surprised to
see one of the men, Girard, bow to a very innocent-looking and beautiful
girl who was in a private box in company with quite a stylish party.
Girard was a good-looking man and he dressed with faultless taste. No
one would suspect him as a rogue on his appearance, and besides his
manners were excellent--quite gentlemanly.

Oscar fixed his gaze on the fair girl between whom and Girard the nod of
recognition had passed, and as he stood there in the theater he revolved
in his mind the singular facts. He wondered how a man of Girard's
polished exterior should have been chosen to act the spy on a common
confederate rogue.

Later he was destined to learn why Girard had been selected.

When the curtain went down on the last act Girard said:

"Thatford, you will have to excuse me to-night. I see