in; the first man started back, his face pale, and he
exclaimed:

"Great Scott!"

"What's the matter?"

"He's gone."

"Gone!" ejaculated the other two.

"Gone, as sure as guns, and rain storms."

The men passed into the room, then they all laughed.

The fools had not noticed until they commenced to laugh that they had
found the door open. They really enjoyed the surprise for a moment until
one of them suddenly appeared to fall to a suspicion.

"Hold on, fellows," he cried, "maybe we are laughing too soon. I don't
understand this; come to think, if that chappie got out of here he
wasn't as big a fool as we thought him."

"Oh, come off."

"I think we'd better go up and see Tommy--hear what he has to say."

The three men ascended to the room where the dude had gone for his game.
They found that door open; they peeped in and Tommy was gone. He had
disappeared, and they saw the opening where the "swag" had been secured.
They looked into each other's faces and one of them said:

"This begins to look serious."

They descended to the barroom. The owner of the place had just appeared.

"Where is Tommy?" they demanded.

"Up in his room, of course."

"Is he?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he's there?"

"He is there."

"He is not."

"What?"

"He is not there."

"Where is he?"

"By all that's strange and miraculous, boys," cried the man who had
first shot forth a suspicion, "we have been played. The dude was a
'copper,' and poor Tommy is in harbor at last."

The men sent out and got a paper, and the first headline that met their
eyes was:

"A Great Capture--Tom ----, the Worst Thief and Most Dangerous Bank
Robber New York has Harbored for Many Years was Captured Last Night
by a very Clever Piece of Detective Strategy and is Now at Police
Headquarters."

The men trembled and one asked:

"What will we do?"

Another answered:

"I don't think the climate of New York agrees with me at this season of
the year."

The others came to the same conclusion, and one said:

"We're in luck if we get away, but there is no time to lose."

The three men quietly glided from the saloon with countenances on which
was written all evidences of terror.

CHAPTER III.

A FEW WORDS AS TO THE REAL IDENTITY OF DUDIE
DUNNE--THE DETECTIVE STARTS OUT ON A FRESH "LAY,"
AND AS A CHAPPIE SWEET CLOSES IN ON COMRADE NUMBER
TWO.

There was nothing noteworthy in the career of Dudie or rather Osca