When Mr. Jacobs threatened to obtain that all-powerful friend of the prisoner, a writ of habeas corpus, Detective Blount, although then without the evidence necessary to hold Hall for trial, did not feel very much concerned. He felt certain his telegrams would procure enough evidence to warrant the prisoner's commitment for trial, but he had a very close shave for it, and the immediate evidence came through an unexpected and almost unknown party—Miss Fleming.

His reply came from Dublin—nothing was known there and O'Brien had not reported for forty-eight hours. He was engaged in another matter.

Next came Carden's reply for both Martin and himself: "Martin too ill. Doctor forbids talking of the matter. O'Brien not here."

Blount looked angry and disappointed—and then came Miss Fleming, just fifteen minutes before he was to go to Court—and with her a big good-looking country squire, who was only too happy to escort her to Dover.

Miss Fleming immediately proceeded to business, and with a directness that excited Blount's admiration. After making sure he was the right party, she laid two letters before him.

"Those," she said, "contain the information, I think, that you asked for. They are from Mr. Martin, and say that he is about to fight with that horrid Hall. At the end of each is a short note from a Mr. O'Brien, saying Mr. Martin was seriously hurt. The letters were sent to Mr. Stafford and—Mr. Carden, and they are with Mr. Martin now."

After examining the letters Blount asked:

"Miss Fleming, would you object to being a witness against Hall, if it becomes necessary?"

She hesitated a little but finally said if it would help her friends in any way she "would try."

It was not necessary, however; for the prosecuting attorney, armed with the letters and telegrams and a witness ready to identify him, had no difficulty in having Hall committed for trial—without bail, owing to Carden's alarming telegram.

Having Hall, now, where he could lay his hand on him when required, Blount accompanied Miss Fleming and Mr. Gerard, her escort, as far as Manchester, and then hurried on to London. No matter how the trial for duelling turned out—and he shrewdly suspected Martin would refuse to appear in it—there was a great deal to be done before it came on.

The first news he received in London was regarding the stolen draft presented at Baring's. Being detailed specially for Martin's matter, this was given as news and not as bearing on his case, as was the additional fact that no trace could be found of the owner, who was now supposed to have been murdered.

Blount in a professional way asked who was the thief and the amount of the draft.

The reply rather startled him. The thief was well known to him as a friend of Jaggers, and the amount of the draft twelve thousand pounds. Then Blount did some very brilliant thinking, which resulted in his calling on the man who had presented the draft.

"Hello, Sanders! Got you again, have they! I say! What did Jaggers do with the rest of the stuff?" Mr. Blount asked, carelessly.

"How do I know? Blast——" Mr. Sanders stopped suddenly. He had steadily refused to talk so far, but his week's imprisonment had not improved an unusually bad temper, and it had got the better of him.

Mr. Blount could be a perfect Job's comforter when occasion required, as is proved by the following:

"Well—you've put your foot in it this time, I'm afraid. I've been away for a week or two—only got back to-day and heard of this. They have you straight enough on the draft, but that's nothing—only a few years. The other is 'life,' or worse.

"Why, don't you know they've got it down for murder now? Oh! you are in for it I'm afraid, as soon as Jaggers gives up. They haven't found the body yet, but, of course, that's pretty near certain to come to light. It's only a matter of time."

Sanders was no fool—at any rate not fool enough to engage in any affair involving murder, and in spite of himself became interested.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"About the finding of the body of the man you took the draft from. The draft itself, of course, amounts to only a few years, but the other——Here! I've got to see a friend of mine almost as bad off as yourself. Take this paper—it will tell you as much as I can!" and Mr. Blount hurried away to the end of the corridor, and then sat down and talked to the turnkey for half an hour.

Sanders was an educated man and came of good family. Drink had been the primary cause of this and his previous troubles, but he had never been involved in anything even approaching murder, and when Blount had gone he seized the paper and read a long story of the crime supposed to be connected with his possession of the draft. News had not been too plentiful, and the editor had given full scope to the reporter's imagination. The police were close on the heels of the missing murderer, so the paper asserted, and he or the one in custody, it was expected, would divulge the story of the crime.

Sanders read the story eagerly and looked considerably worried by it, Blount's little story fitted in so nicely.

Suddenly Blount appeared at the door of the cell.

"Well, through with the paper, Sanders?" he asked, and as it was handed back: "You were a most infernal fool to put your hand into anything with blood in it. Such fellows as Jaggers and 'The Knifer' (Sanders started) take chances of that kind right along, and are bound to come to the rope in the end—but they are little better than brutes, while you are a man of education. But I must be off! May see you again in a day or two—Good-bye."

And having left Sanders with plenty of food for reflection, Blount left the prison in high glee.

"I'll get that thousand pounds yet," he muttered as he passed out, "and by the merest fluke, too. And 'The Knifer' is in it, eh! Well, well! To think of playing it on an intelligent chap like Sanders—but they are all fools, every one of them."

Thus communing with himself, Blount walked rapidly in the direction of "Blind Jim's;" but once in the neighborhood, proceeded at a leisurely gait to that den. As those who frequented the place were all night owls of the worst type, there were but few present when Blount entered, and Jaggers was not among them.

The last time Blount visited Jaggers, the latter became a person of importance because of his intimacy with him, and it occurred to Blount that he could perhaps get something out of "Blind Jim" on the strength of this apparent intimacy.

There were no love lost between the proprietor and the police—especially that portion of it represented in the person of Blount—but he bowed obsequiously as the latter approached.

"I want to meet Jaggers again—where is he?" said Blount, after declining an offer of "something," and ignoring an inquiry as to his health.

As may be supposed "Blind Jim" knew of Jaggers' last bit of business, and hesitated a moment before answering that he did not know.

Jaggers had become very drunk after Blount had gone away the last time the latter called, and had told the proprietor of the den that he had put Blount up to a big thing. Remembrance of this made Jim add that Jaggers had been there the previous night for the first time in a couple of weeks, and was very drunk when he left.

"When you see him again, say I want to see him about that matter. He will know what I mean—I think I will take some beer."

This chimed in exactly with Jaggers' story, and induced "Jim" to say:

"Suppose I make it a quart o' bitter, Mr. Blount, an take it over to 'Nell'—you know her? She 'n Jaggers went out together last night."

Blount assented to the proposition, but a ten minutes conversation with 'Nell' proved conclusively that she knew nothing about Jaggers, except that he appeared to have plenty of money, and was living with "The Knifer," "down Blackwall way."

This was something, however, and Blount left "Blind Jim's" fairly well satisfied. He had not expected to find Jaggers there, and was rather gratified that he had not. It proved that Jaggers was in hiding—otherwise why abandon his old haunts?

That night every officer in London and the outlying districts had an accurate description of Jaggers and "The Knifer," with orders to arrest them.