than physically, and I determined to acquaint my father at once
with what I had done, and get his advice as to whether or not I should
inform the police of my adventure. He heard me with more consideration
than I expected, but insisted that I should immediately make known to
you my experience in this Bowery pawnbroker's shop."

The officer, highly interested, took down the young man's statement in
writing, and, after getting a more accurate description of the house
itself, allowed his visitor to go.

Fortunately for me, I was in the building at the time, and was able to
respond when a man was called up to investigate this matter. Thinking
that I saw a connection between it and the various mysterious deaths of
which I have previously spoken, I entered into the affair with much
spirit. But, wishing to be sure that my possibly unwarranted conclusions
were correct, I took pains to inquire, before proceeding upon my errand,
into the character of the heirs who had inherited the property of Elwood
Henderson and Christopher Bigelow, and found that in each case there was
one among the rest who was well known for his profligacy and reckless
expenditure. It was a significant discovery, and increased, if
possible, my interest in running down this nefarious trafficker in the
lives of wealthy men.

Knowing that I could hope for no success in my character of detective, I
made an arrangement with the father of the young gentleman before
alluded to, by which I was to enter the pawnshop as an emissary of the
latter. Accordingly, I appeared there, one dull November afternoon, in
the garb of a certain Western sporting man, who, for a consideration,
allowed me the temporary use of his name and credentials.

Entering beneath the three golden balls, with the swagger and general
air of ownership I thought most likely to impose upon the self-satisfied
female who presided over the desk, I asked to see her boss.

"On your own business?" she queried, glancing with suspicion at my short
coat, which was rather more showy than elegant.

"No," I returned, "not on my own business, but on that of a young
gent----"

"Any one whose name is written here?" she interposed, reaching towards
me the famous book, over the top of which, however, she was careful to
lay her arm.

I glanced down the page she had opened and instantly detected that of
the young gentleman on whose behalf I was supposed to be there, and
nodded "Yes," with all the assurance of w