as rumored that he was soon to marry.

The sheriff's disappointment was much relieved by the receipt of a
telegram the next morning:

"We have got Darcy corralled here. Come at once.

Pat O'Leary."

"Just as well that we brought O'Leary along," remarked Carter to his
deputy. "You stay on guard here till you hear from me."

In Chicago the sheriff found that his deputy had promptly arrested Darcy
on O'Leary's identification, and had had the man locked up. But on
visiting the jail, Carter was considerably in doubt if he had ever seen
the prisoner before. The Darcy he remembered was smooth shaven, bronzed
through exposure to the California sun, rough and rather desperate in
appearance. This man wore a beard, was well dressed, rather pale from
confinement in his office, and of sanctimonious countenance.

"But that's Darcy, all right," O'Leary assured him. "Same eyes, and same
mole on his neck. Just read him that letter from Collins, Mr. Carter."

At the name of Collins the prisoner winced visibly. For some time he had
realized that Collins might betray him; and he had thought seriously of
ending that scoundrel's career.

Carter followed up the advantage quickly.

"I think this is Mr. Thorn of Union City?" he inquired politely.

"That's my name," said the man, "and I live in Union City, as I told the
officer."

"I've just come from Union City," replied Carter quietly, "and happen to
know that you are a respected citizen of that place. Don't suppose you
ever heard of J. C. P. Collins of Nevada County, California?"

"I was a miner in California several years, but I don't remember anybody
by the name of Collins."

"It's singular then that Collins should call you his old pal and address
you as 'Dear Thorn alias Darcy.'" And Carter presented Collins' letter.

"You're wanted, Thorn, alias Darcy, for the murder of William F.
Cummins." The sheriff looked at the prisoner so sternly that the man
wilted. "Collins has owned up, and you might as well do the same."

"O God!" groaned the man, "my sin has found me out. I killed Cummins
with my own hand; and I am ready to pay the penalty."

His religion had not been all humbug, by any means; and now he asked
permission to visit Union City to make public confession of the murder.
But Carter had left Collins in jail at St. Louis, and saw no reason to
delay the arrest of that scoundrel in order to gratify the wishes of a
confessed murderer. So he proceeded to St. Louis a