s chair with his feet
on the bed, and opened "The Pale Avengers." He had never before read a
dime novel, and this opened a new world to him. He read breathlessly.
The style of the story was somewhat like this:--

The picture on the wall swung aside and Detective Brown
stared into the muzzles of two revolvers and the sharp eyes
of the youngest of the Pale Avengers. A thrill of horror
swept through the detective. He felt his doom was at hand.
But he did not cringe.

"Your time has come!" said the Avenger.

"Be not too sure," said Detective Brown haughtily.

"Are you ready to die?"

"Ever ready!"

The detective extended his hand toward the table, on which
his revolver lay. A cruel laugh greeted him. It was the
last human voice he was to hear. As if by magic the floor
under his feet gave way. Down, down, down, a thousand feet
he was precipitated. He tried to grasp the well-like walls
of masonry, but in vain. Nothing could stay him. As he
plunged into the deep water of the oubliette a fiendish
laugh echoed in his ears. The Pale Avengers had destroyed
one more of their adversaries.

Until he read this thrilling tale, Philo Gubb had not guessed the
fiendishness of malefactors when brought to bay, and yet here it was
in black and white. The oubliette--a dark, dank dungeon hidden beneath
the ground--was a favorite method of killing detectives, it seemed.
Generally speaking, the oubliette seemed to be the prevailing fashion
in vengeful murder. Sometimes the bed sank into the oubliette;
sometimes the floor gave way and cast the victim into the oubliette;
sometimes the whole room sank slowly into the oubliette; but death for
the victim always lurked in the pit.

Before getting into bed Philo Gubb examined the walls, the floor, and
the ceiling of his room. They seemed safe and secure, but twice during
the night he awoke with a cry, imagining himself sinking through the
floor.

Three nights later, as Philo Gubb stood in the dark doorway of the
Willcox Building waiting to pick up any suspicious character, Billy
Getz slipped in beside him and drew him hastily to the back of the
entry.

"Hush! Not a word!" he whispered. "Did you see a man in the window
across the street? The third window on the top floor?"

"No," whispered Philo Gubb. "Was--was there one?"

"With a rifle!" whispered Billy Getz. "Ready to pick you off. Come! It
is