THE REMEMBERED BILLS.

Some few days subsequent to my adventure in the dive I met a lady on the street, at sight of whose face I gave a slight start.

I had seen the face somewhere before; in fact, felt that I had once been quite familiar with it.

Ah!

"Mrs. Morris!" I said.

The lady turned swiftly, not a little startled at being thus addressed. Then I saw her face light up with a look of recognition.

"I thought I was not mistaken," I said. "You remember me, I hope?"

"I do. You are Howard, who became a detective after I last saw you."

"Right," I rejoined, and then I walked along beside her towards her humble home.

I had not thought of Mat in some days, but at sight of her he flashed into my mind.

I finally inquired about him.

"I have not see him in some time," Mrs. Morris said, in reply.

I told her of my having seen him, and then she told me about Helen.

We reached her humble home.

She then told me that she had heard from Mat, although she had not seen him. Several mornings before she had awakened to find an envelope thrust beneath the door, on opening which she found its contents to be five hundred dollars.

"Five hundred dollars!" I exclaimed, in surprise. "Will you let me see the money, Mrs. Morris?"

"Certainly."

The amount was precisely that which I had paid Shadow. I remembered some of the bills, and was curious to see if they were contained in the money.

They were.

Every bill that I had specially noted was in the roll of bills she handed to me in response to my request.

The last lingering doubt as to Mat Morris and Shadow being one and the same person was swept from my mind by this circumstance.

I said nothing, however, to Mrs. Morris of where and how I had last seen Shadow—or Mat—for I knew it could only make her more anxious on his account.

While wondering where Mat could have obtained so large a sum of money, the mother's confidence in her son was so great that she felt it had been come by in none other than a proper and honest manner.

"Will you not do what you can toward finding our Helen?" Mrs. Morris asked at parting.

"I will," was the reply; and, indeed, I kept the subject constantly before me, and my ears always open, when I visited the many haunts of vice in the pursuit of my duties.

But weeks glided away and I found no clew, nor had I heard or seen aught of Shadow.

Yet he was not idle, and I now know that though I did not see him he saw me many times, and avoided me on purpose.

Steadily, although slowly, he pursued the one object of his present mode of life.

Any man who was known to be "crooked," and who at all resembled a certain description, he would persistently shadow until he knew that the person was not guilty of that particular crime.

Again and again was he disappointed.

But he would only make a dissatisfied gesture with his hand, and then in thin air write the words:

"Try, try again! Success must come at last!"

And then he would go relentlessly on, pursuing some unknown person who was even more shadowy than himself.

Besides searching for this one person, Shadow had devoted himself from a feeling of resentment toward the whole tribe of evil-doers, to the exposure of villainy whenever and wherever he found it.

The two burglars whom I had overheard talking about some "job" on entering the dive, were being cared for by Shadow.

Supposed to be deaf and dumb they had talked freely before him—it was destined to be to their sorrow.

They laid their plans for the robbery of a bank with the most consummate skill.

Having rented a vacant store adjoining the building in which the bank was located, they opened an oyster saloon, but rather discouraged than encouraged trade.

With the fall of night they would descend to the cellar, and until break of day would work at cutting through the foundation wall.

It was thick and strongly built, but this they had expected, and were prepared for. Digging out the mortar between the bricks, first one and then another was pried out, until at last only one layer of four inches in thickness remained, which a single blow from the blunt end of a crowbar would knock out.

This was accomplished on Friday night.

They now quit work until the following night, when they intended entering, knowing that in all probability they would have until Monday morning to "tap" the vault and safe.

But, safe as they felt themselves, a pair of keen eyes were upon them.

They were those of Shadow.

Late on Sunday afternoon a note was handed me. It was from the mysterious being, whom I felt sure was none other than Mat Morris.

The note was very brief.

It simply said:

"Be at the corner of —— street and —— avenue at eleven o'clock to-night, with a dozen men. You must be in citizens' clothes.

Shadow."

This time I did not hesitate about getting ready to act upon the communication of the mysterious detective.

Promptly at the hour indicated I was at the designated spot, while the required number of men were scattered about in the concealment of various doorways there, and waiting, but out of sight.

I had not long to wait.

It seemed as if Shadow had arisen out of the ground, for I had not seen or heard him approach, yet on turning on feeling my elbow touched, found him at my side.

Holding up his hands between me and the light of the nearest lamp, so that I could plainly see what he was about, he asked me in the deaf and dumb alphabet:

"Can you understand this?"

There are few school-boys who have not at some time learned the art of thus talking with the fingers, and I have once been able to do almost as well as the mutes who are compelled to converse in this way.

Making an effort I found that I could recall the alphabet, and answered:

"I can understand."

"Pretend to be drunk, and follow me. When I cough, quietly capture the man you will see."

Side by side we reeled up the avenue, and several blocks away I saw a fellow coming in the opposite direction.

"The lookout," I mentally said, and placed my revolver in a handy position.

I was not mistaken.

Just as we were about to pass the fellow, Shadow coughed. Quick as a flash, I wheeled and planted the muzzle of my weapon to the lookout's head, sternly saying:

"Not a word—not a bit of noise—or I'll put a bullet in your noddle!"

Surprised completely, the fellow caved, and I ran him along to where the men were walking, handcuffed him, and sent him to the station in charge of two men, but not until after Shadow had gone through his pockets.

We now all followed Shadow.

"Wait here," he finally spelled on his fingers. "In five minutes, at the farthest, I will return."

From the lookout's pocket he had taken a pass-key, which admitted him to a hall connecting with the bogus oyster saloon, and leaving the door unlocked, disappeared from sight.

Five minutes passed, lengthened into ten, twelve, fifteen, and still Shadow had not returned.

Had he been detected and murdered?

I could wait no longer. I opened the door and entered, followed by my men.

We heard stealthy steps, and paused.

Then the slide of a dark lantern was opened by some one, and in the big strong patch of light it threw we saw Shadow.

There was a rush of feet, the light was covered, and we—the silent witnesses—heard a low cry and a heavy fall.

Had Shadow's boldness cost him his life? I thought of Mrs. Morris, and my heart was saddened.