angerous satchel was
held loosely in the hands of the visitor whose blazing eyes were fixed
upon the banker. The telegraph boy had made up his mind to take a
desperate step, which depended for its success on rapid execution and
unfaltering nerves.

Luther Rockwell was hesitating what reply to make to his visitor's
demand when Mark, with one step forward, snatched the valise from the
unsuspecting visitor and rapidly retreated in the direction of the two
clerks.

"Now do your part!" he exclaimed in keen excitement.

The crank uttered a howl of rage, and turning his fierce, bloodshot eyes
upon Mark dashed towards him.

The two clerks were now nerved up to action. They were not cowards, but
the nature of the peril had dazed them. One was a member of an athletic
club, and unusually strong.

They dashed forward and together seized the madman. Mr. Rockwell, too,
sprang from his seat, and, though an old man, joined the attacking
party.

"Quick!" he shouted to Mark. "Take that valise out of the office, and
carry it where it will do no harm. Then come back!"

Mark needed no second bidding. He ran out of the office and down-stairs,
never stopping till he reached the nearest police station. Quickly he
told his story, and two policemen were despatched on a run to Mr.
Rockwell's office.

They arrived none too soon. The crank appeared to have the strength of
three men, and it seemed doubtful how the contest between him and the
three who assailed him would terminate.

The two policemen turned the scale. They dexterously slipped handcuffs
over his wrists, and at last he sank to the floor conquered. He was
panting and frothing at the mouth.

Luther Rockwell fell back into his seat exhausted.

"You've had a trying time, sir!" said one of the policemen respectfully.

"Yes," ejaculated the banker with dry lips. "I wouldn't pass-through it
again for fifty thousand dollars. I've been as near a terrible death as
any man can be--and live! But for the heroism of that boy--where is he?"

The question was answered by the appearance of Mark Mason himself, just
returned from the police station.

"But for you," said the banker gratefully, "we should all be in
eternity."

"I too!" answered Mark.

"Let me get at him!" shrieked the crank, eying Mark with a demoniac
hatred. "But for him I should have succeeded."

"Was there really dynamite in the bag?" asked one of the policemen.

"Yes," answered Mark. "The sergeant opened it in m