s
Cloudsdale. We explained to him fully the nature of the business
intrusted to his keeping, and took great pains to impress upon him the
necessity of vigilance and fidelity. He entered into the scheme with
alacrity, and was most profuse in his promises.

Our settled plan was to meet at the outer door of the photographer's
gallery, at half-past ten o'clock P. M., on the 19th of November, 1853,
and shortly afterwards to make our way, by stratagem or force, into the
presence of Pollexfen, and arrest him on the spot. We hoped to find such
preparations on hand as would justify the arrest, and secure his
punishment. If not, Lucile was to be removed, at all events, and
conducted to a place of safety. Such was the general outline. During the
week we had frequent conferences, and Cloudsdale effected an entrance,
on two occasions, upon some slight pretext, into the room of the artist.
But he could discover nothing to arouse suspicion; so, at least, he
informed us. During the morning of the 19th, a warrant of arrest was
duly issued, and lodged in the hands of Cloudsdale for execution. He
then bade us good morning, and urged us to be promptly on the ground at
half-past ten. He told us that he had another arrest to make on the
Sacramento boat, when she arrived, but would not be detained five
minutes at the police office. This was annoying, but we submitted with
the best grace possible.

During the afternoon, I got another glimpse at our "trusty." The steamer
left for Panama at one P. M., and I went on board to bid adieu to a
friend who was a passenger.

Cloudsdale was also there, and seemed anxious and restive. He told me
that he was on the lookout for a highway robber, who had been tracked to
the city, and it might be possible that he was stowed away secretly on
the ship. Having business up town, I soon left, and went away with a
heavy heart.

As night approached I grew more and more nervous, for the party most
deeply interested in preventing this crime had not made his appearance.
Mr. Courtland had not reached the city. Sickness or the miscarriage of
my letter, was doubtless the cause.

The Doctor and myself supped together, and then proceeded to my
chambers, where we armed ourselves as heavily as though we were about to
fight a battle. We were both silent. The enormity of Pollexfen's
contemplated crime struck us dumb. The evening, however, wore painfully
away, and finally our watches pointed to the time when we should take