they're in here! I will see them!" a voice exclaimed. "I
want them arrested at once!"

"Go easy now," counseled the doorman as he tried to hold back a short,
stout, excited man who was pushing his way into the station.

"There they are!" exclaimed the man, pointing to Jack and Mark.

"Why those boys are from the burned hotel," said the doorman.

"I know it! They are the very ones I want!"

"What do you of us?" spoke up Mark. He recognized the man as the one who
had called to him as he and Jack were escaping.

"I charge you with being sons of James Darrow, the notorious English
anarchist!" cried the little man, pointing his finger at the boys, "and
I accuse you of trying to kill Lord Peckham with a bomb, the explosion
of which set fire to the hotel!"

For a moment the surprising charge so astonished every one that not a
word was said. Then the little man, advancing toward the boys went on:

"I arrest you in the name of His Royal Highness, Edward VII, King of
England, Scotland and Wales."

He threw back the lapel of his coat and showed a badge.

"King of England, Scotland and Wales, is it!" exclaimed the doorman with
a twinkle in his eye. "An' why didn't ye say Ireland into the bargain."

"Ireland, of course," went on the little man. "I'm an officer of His
Most Gracious Majesty," he added, "and I demand the assistance of the
United States authorities in general and the police of Easton in
particular in taking these desperate criminals into custody!"

"Hold your horses," advised the desk-sergeant. "Those boys are not
liable to run away. They're to stay here over night, and if you have any
charge to make against them why you'll have to come and see the judge
in the morning."

"But they are sons of an anarchist! They are anarchists themselves!"
exclaimed the man, "I must arrest them!"

"You're not going to arrest anybody," said the sergeant, "until you get
a warrant from the judge. This isn't England."

"Then I'm going to stay with these boys the rest of the night," insisted
the man. "I can't take any chances on their giving me the slip."

"This place is going to be crowded with people from the burned hotel,"
objected the sergeant. "There will be no room for you. Besides, how do I
know these boys are anarchists?"

"Look in their valise," cried the stranger. "It is filled with bombs."

"You can't look in this satchel," exclaimed Jack, for he remembered the
valise contained parts of the professor's secret