sby's private correspondence, have we? Suppose Miss Eustis's
letters are returned to her, what does that prove? Why, nothing at
all,--except that it wasn't her correspondence the fellows that
cracked that safe were after. We should worry!

"Say, though, don't you wish you could see them when they stroll down
to those beautiful offices and go for to open that nice burglar-proof
safe with the little brass flower-pot on top of it? What a joke! Holy
whiskered black cats, what a joke!"

"I'm afraid Mr. Inglesby's sense of humor isn't his strong point,"
said I. "Not that I have any sympathy for him. I think he is getting
only what he deserves."

"_Alexander the coppersmith wrought me much evil. May God requite him
according to his works!_" murmured the Butterfly Man, piously, and
chuckled. "Don't worry, parson--Alexander's due to fall sick with the
pip to-day or to-morrow. What do you bet he don't get it so bad he'll
have to pull up all his pretty plans by the roots, leave Mr. Hunter in
charge, and go off somewhere to take mudbaths for his liver? Believe
me, he'll need them! Why, the man won't be able to breathe easy any
more--he'll be expecting one in the solar plexus any minute, not
knowing any more than Adam's cat who's to hand it to him. He can't
tell who to trust and who to suspect. If you want to know just how
hard Alexander's going to be requited according to his works, take a
look at these." He pointed to the letters.

I did take a look, and I admit I was frightened. It seemed to me
highly unsafe for plain folks like us to know such things about such
people. I was amazed to the point of stupefaction at the corruption
those communications betrayed, the shameless and sordid disregard of
law and decency, the brutal and cynical indifference to public
welfare. At sight of some of the signatures my head swam--I felt
saddened, disillusioned, almost in despair for humanity. I suppose
Inglesby had thought it wiser to preserve these letters--possibly for
his own safety; but no wonder he had locked them up! I looked at the
Butterfly Man openmouthed.

"You wouldn't think folks wearing such names could be that rotten,
would you? Some of them pillars of the church, too, and married to
good women, and the fathers of nice kids! Why, I have known crooks
that the police of a dozen states were after, that wouldn't have been
caught dead on jobs like some of these. Inglesby won't know it, but he
ought to thank his stars _we've_ got