erintendent of police warned of his probable arrival!"

The lad looked at Mr. Heatherbloom as he shouted; that gentleman
returned his gaze with unflinching stolidness.

"What abduction?" he asked.

"Beautiful New York heiress."

The voice passed on; the fugitive was once more alone with his thoughts.
If they had been wild, turbulent before, what were they now? His hands
closed; at the moment he did not bemoan his own probable fate, only the
fact that the clue bringing him here had been false--false!

Another voice--this time a man's--accosted him. Mr. Heatherbloom sprang
swiftly to his feet but the person, an old darky, did not appear very
formidable.

"Got a match, boss?" he inquired mildly.

Mr. Heatherbloom's bright suspicious glance shot into the good-humored,
open look of the other; that person's manner betrayed no ulterior
motive. Perhaps he had not yet heard the newsboy; did not
know--Mechanically the young man answered that he did not possess the
article required, but the intruder still lingered; he had accosted the
other partly because of a desire for desultory conversation. Mr.
Heatherbloom, after a moment's careful scrutiny, showed a disposition to
be accommodating in this regard; he even took the initiative--suddenly,
asking question after question about this boat and that. Her name; when
she had come; where she was going; of what her cargo consisted? The
other replied willingly. Like many of his kind in the port, although he
could not read or write, he was wise in harbor-front knowledge, knew all
the floating tramps and the sailing craft.

"I suppose it's always about the same old boats drop in here?" Mr.
Heatherbloom, after a little, observed insinuatingly.

"Yes, always de same ole tubs," assented the darky.

A shadow crossed the other's face, but he managed to assume a light air.
"Battered hulks and sailing brigs of a past generation, eh?" He put the
case strongly, but the darky only nodded smilingly. His strong point in
conversation was in agreeing with people; he even forgot patriotism
toward his own port in being amiable.

Mr. Heatherbloom glanced now beyond them to the right and the left; but
no one whom he had reason to fear came within scope of his vision. His
figure relaxed. When would they come to take him? The newsboy's words
reiterated themselves in his mind. "Traced to this city!" Of course;
Miss Van Rolsen's millions were at the command of the secret-service
bureau; his descripti