al. He was nervous and excited,
and his mind was troubled about the success of the enterprise upon
which Sommers had gone.

The news which the detective brought reassured him, however, and he
laughed gayly as he thought that his money was now safe from the
reach of any one but himself and his friend.

There was something so cold and brutal about this laugh of Bucholz
that caused the detective involuntarily to shudder as he gazed upon
him. Here between the narrow walls of a prison cell he stood face to
face with a man who had taken a human life, and who stood almost in
the awful presence of retributive justice, yet his laugh was as clear
and ringing, and his face as genial as though no trial awaited him
and no judgment was in store.

The sensitive nature of the detective recoiled from such close
contact with this crime-stained man, but his duty required it and he
performed it manfully and well.

He related to Bucholz his visit to the barn (omitting, of course, to
state who his companions were) and the finding of the money. As he
mentioned the discovery of the gold pieces, Bucholz exclaimed:

"Gold pieces! I cannot tell for the world how they got there. I don't
know anything about them."

It was evident that he had not examined this package prior to burying
it in the ground, and Sommers suggested the possibility of their
having been wrapped in the paper which enclosed the canvas-covered
book.

"You were very careless to put the money in such a place," continued
Sommers; "the notes were so rotten, I was almost afraid to handle
them."

"You mean," said Bucholz, with a laugh, "that Schulte was careless,
not me;" then starting up he walked backward and forward, exclaiming:
"My God, how careless I was!"

"Yes," replied Sommers, "after risking so much, you should have taken
better care of it."

Bucholz stopped in his walk, and facing his companion asked in a
manner that gave every evidence of insincerity,

"Do you think that I killed him?"

"I think you know something about it," replied Sommers, gazing
steadily into the eyes of his questioner. "Do you think if tramps had
killed him, they would have left twenty thousand dollars upon his
person?"

"Well," said Bucholz, laughing in a bewildered manner, and then, as
if taking comfort from the reflection and anxious to change the
conversation, "the money is all right, anyhow."

Yes, the money was, indeed, all right, but not in the sense he
deluded himself by bel