t the man's full face. In the negative, even so small
an object as his eyes stood out beautifully.

We made a blue-print of this negative, and both Lester and myself
recognized the faithfulness of the likeness, notwithstanding the fact
that we had seen the man but a moment.

About the middle of the afternoon, my father returned from the
neighboring town, ten miles away, in one of the banks of which he was
clerk. He seemed to be much excited and perturbed about something. My
mother noticed it also, and immediately inquired as to the cause of his
uneasiness.

"The bank was robbed last night," he answered, "and over fifty thousand
dollars stolen. Every cent I had in the world is gone with the rest."

My mother made an exclamation of dismay.

"And the worst of it is," went on my father, "that we are almost certain
who the thief is, but we haven't a thing in the world to trace him
by--not a vestige of a photograph or anything like it, which we could
give to detectives to guide them in the hunt. The man's gone, and the
money with him."

And my father sank despondently into a chair.

Meanwhile Lester and I stood by, listening silently, the still wet
blue-print in my hand. After a minute I went and pressed the print out
flat upon the table, on which my father's arm was leaning. At any other
time I would have proudly exhibited it to him, and would have been sure
of his interest and appreciation, but I did not feel like intruding upon
his present worriment.

As I laid the picture face upward upon the table, my father turned his
head and looked at it indifferently. Suddenly he pushed me aside, and
bent over the print so closely that his face almost touched it.

I recovered my balance with difficulty, and stared at him in frightened
bewilderment. My father had never acted in this manner before, and I was
almost afraid he had gone mad.

"Great Scott!" he exclaimed. "The very thing!"

Then, wheeling around, he grasped me by the shoulders, and wanted to
know where I got that picture.

I was far too dazed by his strange actions to answer a word; so Lester
interposed and told my father, in as few words as possible, of our
morning expedition, and of the man whom we had photographed in the act
of drinking.

"Bless the camera!" ejaculated my father, excitedly, "that's Eli Parker,
the thief! And the best likeness of him I ever saw, too!"

Then he questioned us closely as to the direction the man had taken when
discovered,