"Yes; but this privilege is never accorded to those who are arrested
for burglary."

"It is certainly inconvenient to be a burglar," said Fred, smiling in
spite of his secret anxiety.

"Then you can't let him go?" questioned Frank, regretfully.

"Well, there is one way. I should not consider it safe to let him go
with you, but I might accompany you."

"That will be capital! You will, won't you?"

"Yes, I will," said Ferguson, after a momentary pause. "I have a boy of
my own about the age of--the young burglar--and that perhaps inclines
me to be more indulgent. But you must wait till after dinner."

"Will dinner be sent up here?" asked Frank.

"Yes, for him; but you are not staying at the house."

"I forgot; and I haven't got money enough to pay for a hotel dinner."

"That's all right, Frank," said Fred. "I invite you to dine with me,
and it shall be charged on my bill. I shall enjoy dinner better if I
have company."

"Thank you. I accept the invitation, but I don't like to be an expense
to you."

"Never mind."

Dinner was sent up in the course of half an hour, and the two boys
enjoyed it.

"Are you still attending school, Frank?" asked Fred.

"Yes."

"I should like to, but poor boys like me have to work for a living."

"If you won't tell I will let you into a secret."

"What is it?"

"I am writing a long story. I want to be an author some time. I've
written twenty chapters already."

"You must be smart," said Fred in surprise. "Why, I couldn't write as
much in a whole year."

"Of course I can't tell whether it is good for anything, but some time
I mean to write well."

"Well, Frank, I wish you success, I am sure. Some day I may be proud to
know you."

"Now I might write a story about you, and call it 'The Boy Burglar.'"

"Don't! I have no wish to figure in that character."

Half an hour later the door opened, and the detective entered, dressed
for a walk.

"Now, if you two burglars are ready," he said, "we will take a stroll."

CHAPTER XIII.

THE HOTEL CLERK'S MISTAKE.

"What was the name of your room-mate, Fred?" asked Frank Hamblin, as
they went down-stairs.

"I didn't notice. He registered before me."

"Suppose we look and see. It may be well to know."

They opened the hotel register, and saw written in a bold, free hand:

"F. GRANT PALMER, CHICAGO."

"It may be another Fred," suggested Frank.

"Or Frank. Either name would do for a burglar," said Mr. Ferguson,
s