Morgan's efforts to find Jaggers were untiring and equally unavailing, and at the end of the first week he was certain Jaggers was not to be found in Blackwall, so certain that he ventured to express this belief to Blount. The latter, however, was equally certain Jaggers was in Blackwall. "Keep at it," he said; "you'll run across his trail yet, although I was a little ahead when I said a week," and Morgan accordingly continued the hunt.

Blount was now in a particularly hopeful mood, and felt confident Morgan would unearth Jaggers; and he had obtained some interesting information concerning Jacobs, the attorney, through the office-boy, whose release he had obtained for the purpose of using him against his employer.

When the boy called at Morgan's house, according to his promise, and Blount instead of Morgan met him, it required some persuasion to make him talk; but he was eager enough to do so when Blount modestly admitted that it was to him he owed his liberty, and on him depended his enjoyment of it in the future.

Blount then learned that the paper and chemicals which had been found upon the boy, were intended for a clerk recently employed by Mr. Jacobs, for what purpose the boy did not know, except that they were to be used in copying some papers. Did he know the contents of the papers or their character? No, nothing, except that Mr. Hall had left them with Mr. Jacobs.

That was all Blount could get out of the boy at the first meeting.

"Now, Henry," he said, when the boy had finished, "this stealing business of yours is only postponed, but if you do as I bid you, it will never come up again. If you don't you will certainly go to jail, and in short order."

Henry was only too eager to promise to do anything to prevent his re-arrest, and Blount continued:

"Very well, Henry, we'll see how you get on. Now then! You get to the office first in the morning—don't you? Yes—well, to-morrow morning be there particularly early and make a rough copy of the papers this new clerk is working on. If you can't copy all, read the rest carefully so that you can tell me what it is about, and copy the balance next morning. Then you must get me a sheet of the paper and a few drops of the ink. If you do all this correctly it will be a good deal in your favor, and may obtain your absolute release from this foolish trouble you are in. You must also pay close attention to what passes between Mr. Jacobs and the new clerk and try to remember it. By the way! What is the new clerk's name?"

"Quirk, sir, and I heard Mr. Jacobs tell him when he came first, that if he didn't keep sober it would be worse for him."

"Oh! ho! Got a grip on him—eh? Well, that's all for to-night, Henry. Be sharp now, and get here as early to-morrow night as you can."

Shortly after the boy had gone, and while Blount was musing over his story regarding the queer documents, the preparation of which required such special paper and peculiar ink—for he shrewdly suspected the chemicals were to be used in making the latter—Morgan entered looking a trifle exultant.

"I have located him at last!" he said.

"Of course; he will be safe until you get back? You know I don't want to lose sight of him now under any circumstances."

"Yes—he's safe enough. He's blind drunk at the 'North Star.' He has a room there, and has been out of the house but once since hiring it. 'The Knifer' must be somewhere else, for from the description he is the friend and only caller who comes occasionally to see Jaggers."

Blount was not of the "I told you so" breed, but came near looking it as he said:

"Very good, Morgan! Very good! Now get back as quick as you can and don't leave him again until I come. I think between this boy and Sanders and what we can make Jaggers say, we are getting near the end of the Martin matter. Sanders looks tired out already, and if I can only keep up the strain he's under he will give up everything in a day or two. Meantime you look out for Jaggers, and I'll see about these queer papers. I'm beginning to think they will form an important link in the chain which we will soon finish forging."

Morgan started back at once, pleased with Blount's commendation and confidence in him; but found on his arrival at the "North Star,"—which was a house of fair character and had for that reason escaped close attention—that there had been a row during his absence, and that Jaggers had been stabbed by a drunken sailor. The injured man was being carried up-stairs when he arrived, and on his heels came the doctor.

Morgan, who had been informed that the wound was a bad one, now justified Blount's high opinion of him by making a bold stroke. Calling the doctor aside, he informed him who he was and that Jaggers was a criminal.

"You can, if necessary, but it probably will not be, introduce me as your assistant; and then, whether the wound is really dangerous or not, he must be made to believe it is—make him believe he is dying!"

The doctor hesitated and looked doubtful, but when Morgan said it was "worth five pounds," all hesitation and doubt vanished—of course, Mr. Morgan was a representative of the law, and he must do as he required.

Jaggers was really seriously hurt, and fully appreciated that fact. He greeted the doctor with a curse for delaying so long, and then asked what chances he had of recovery.

"Don't be afraid of tellin' me!" he exclaimed, as the doctor, after carefully sewing the wound, stood looking gravely and thoughtfully at his patient—as per instructions.

Morgan, standing to one side and out of Jaggers' view, acknowledged to himself that the doctor had fairly earned the money, as he saw the more than professional gravity deepen into positive gloom before the reply came:

"You are in a decidedly dangerous condition. Wounded as you are in the groin, I cannot undertake to say you will live two hours!"

Jaggers was not wounded in the groin, but of course did not know it, and looked terror-stricken on hearing the verdict he had so freely invited. His terror was increased by the doctor's suggestion that a clergyman was next in order.

"No, no! I want none of the d——d canting parsons!" he cried; and then, catching sight of Morgan, who had purposely come within range of his sight, exclaimed: "Who is that? What does he want?"

Before the doctor could reply, Morgan stepped forward and answered for himself. Jaggers was now in the desired condition to continue the bold game he was playing.

"I am a detective, Jaggers, and I came here for you; but as death claims you first, I suppose I can only wait for the end."

Jaggers was very weak from loss of blood, owing to the delay in sending for a physician, and the subsequent delay of that gentleman after his arrival at the "North Star" in consulting with Morgan, and this weakness increased the terrors of his imagination.

"Wot fur?" he asked.

"Murder of Golden in Burns Alley," was the sententious reply.

"It's a lie! It's a lie!" screamed Jaggers, starting up with sudden energy. "It's a lie! He was my friend!"

"Well, well! Never mind. It don't matter now, of course, but if you did not murder him, how did you get possession of that draft and the other papers? Sanders says he got the draft through you."

The doctor was standing in front of Jaggers, and Morgan motioned him to take down what was said.

Wearied, confused, and believing himself dying, Jaggers replied:

"I did give Sanders a draft, but the old man never had no draft! That devil, Hall, had that, but me and 'The Knifer' got the best of him. We got into his room one night and got his papers. They wos sewed up in a chest-pertecter an' I kep' them just for spite! They wos no good to me—only the draft! And that's gone too! Poor Sanders! He's in for that!"

"Doctor!" called Morgan, sharply, but with a significant look. "Give this man something to brace him up! I must get this thing in writing!"

The doctor hastily prepared something for Jaggers, which was scarcely in his stomach before Morgan asked:

"What you say may possibly save Sanders' neck from the rope and put it around Hall's, but you must sign a statement of it!"

Morgan had touched the right key, and knew it when he saw the glitter of the dying (?) man's eyes on mentioning Hall.

"Now then, Jaggers! If you want to put the rope on the right man you must tell me where the papers are. Where are they now? You've got 'em, I suppose?"

"No—Jack (The Knifer) played me a mean trick. He's got all the papers an' wouldn't give 'em to me. He wos 'ere yesterd'y an' I don't just know where he's gone—but 'e's got 'em."

The doctor finished writing almost as soon as Jaggers stopped speaking, and after making his mark to it the latter dropped back on the pillow.

"Dead!" exclaimed Morgan.

"Oh, no! Just asleep!" said the doctor.

Reassured on this point, Morgan despatched a message to Blount and then proceeded to make himself comfortable for the night.

Next morning at six o'clock Blount appeared, and simultaneously Jaggers awoke.

A long conversation ensued—Blount holding Jaggers's statement of the night before in his hand.