FAVORING FORTUNE.

In the course of my professional career I have been in many tight places, and among the tightest I count that night, when in the old sugar-house, converted into a "fence" for receiving the "swag" brought in by the river pirates.

Immediately on reading the note written by Shadow I commenced retreating, even while Cap was coming forward to see who wanted him, and what for.

I had pretended to have been sent with a message by Dick Stanton, who, as Shadow had informed me, was already there, a fact unknown to the guard, else I must have been roughly used before this.

To have told this to Cap would have at once betrayed me, and my heart swelled with gratitude to Shadow—for I considered that he had saved my life.

Did misfortune attend my efforts to pass the guard, it would not be Shadow's fault, but my own in venturing into this place.

And yet I had done so on his account, had done so because I had learned that a young fellow answering his description was kept close prisoner in a place significantly called the "Black Hole."

Toward the guarded portal I went as rapidly as I could without an appearance of noisy haste.

I reached it at last.

Cap had not yet reached the spot where he expected to see me.

I had now just as long to fool the guard as it would take Cap to grow impatient at not seeing me, and bellow out some question as to where I was.

"Here's your lantern, my friend, and I'm much obliged for it," I said, as I drew near the guarded portal.

"See him?"

"Yes."

"All right?"

"Yes."

"Cap's in one of his black humors to-night."

"Phew! I should say so."

"Nothing wrong, was there?"

"Nothing particular," I answered. "What's the matter with that bolt? Does it stick?"

"Like thunderation. There it goes. I've got it now. Now for another one—you see we keep this place well guarded—now another, and all that now remains is to turn the knob."

"Suppose you do it, then, as I've got one or two messages more to deliver yet."

"Kerect."

The guard's hand was on the knob.

He was in the act of turning it when he suddenly paused.

"Got the pass?" he inquired.

"The what?"

"The pass."

"What pass?"

"Why, every night the cap'n gives out a new pass, and none go through this door without giving it."

"He must have forgotten to give it to me," I returned, clenching my fists unseen by the guard. "It's all right, though, so let me out, as I'm in a hurry."

"Can't help it. Hurry or no hurry, you can't get through here until the cap'n gives me orders to let you, or you give me the password."

I set my teeth.

With liberty before me I was not going to be balked in this way.

"Let me out!" I ordered.

"I can't do it."

"Let me out, I say."

"I dare not, and I won't 'thout the cap'n's orders. So you might's well be easy."

From the interior of the densely dark place I now heard an angry oath.

"I say, where are you?" cap was impatiently asking.

There was no time to lose.

"Growler!"

"Aye, aye!" returned the guard.

"Didn't you say somebody was here to see me?"

Growler turned on me a glance filled with mistrust, and making a dive, tried to shoot several bolts.

Now was my last and only chance.

I raised my clenched fist.

Spat!

It took him squarely between the eyes, and felled him to the ground like a log.

"A spy—a spy!" he yelled, as he was falling.

Cap heard the cry.

Toward the door he came flying, drawing his revolver on the way.

But I was not slow in taking advantage of my opportunity, and seizing and turning the knob, I flung open the door and bounded out into the darkness.

Fearing pursuit, and knowing myself to be in a mighty hard neighborhood, where every man I might chance to meet would be more likely friends of the pirates than friends of mine, I dashed around the old building and flung myself down in a place of hiding.

I heard a door open on that side of the building, only a few seconds later.

The person who emerged was Dick Stanton, the false detective.

I recognized him by a peculiar snuffle that had long been a settled habit of his.

Quick to think and act, I sprang to my feet, and dropping all fears of pursuit, followed him.

When he had got into a section of the city where there was no chance of his being rescued by the pirates, I hastened my pace and finally reached his side.

"How are you, Dick?"

He gave a start as I called him by name, and turning swiftly, glanced keenly at me, pausing beneath a street lamp that he might see me better.

"Is my disguise so good, then?" I asked, with a laugh, speaking in my natural tone.

"Howard!"

"Correct."

"Your disguise is perfect."

"Would my own mother know me?"

"Not a bit of it. How in the world do you manage to get yourself up so thoroughly?"

"It's a knack of mine. I say, Dick, got anything on hand?"

"No."

"Lend me your revolvers, then, will you? Mine I forgot when I left the house."

"Did you? That's funny, for I forgot mine also. I haven't got so good a weapon about me as a jack-knife."

"Then," and I spoke very sternly, and quickly drawing a revolver, placed it to his temple, "then consider yourself my prisoner."

"Wh-what do you mean?" he gasped.

"I'll show you."

"This must be a joke of yours," said the trembling wretch.

"It will be a sorry joke for you," said I. "Hold out your hands."

"What for?"

"Hold 'em out."

I pressed the cold muzzle of the revolver against his temple a little harder.

He understood the significance of the movement, and loathfully put out his hands.

"Howard, I don't like this," he said, in an assumed angry tone, to carry out the idea that he considered it in the light of a practical joke.

"You'll like it less before I get through with you," as I snapped the handcuffs on his wrists. "To be a thief is bad enough, but to call yourself a detective and then be in league with a gang of cut-throats, river-pirates and burglars, is far worse, and I give you my word that I intend to shove you as hard as I can."

Stanton's jaw fell.

He was cornered and confounded.

"Lost!" he groaned.

And then, with bent head, he walked dumbly along at my side.

"Howard, will you not let up on me?" he pleaded, humbly, his tone trembling with fear.

"What will I gain by it?" I artfully said.

"Why, they always let the one go who turns State's evidence," he said, eagerly. "Give me a chance, won't you?"

How disgusted I was with Stanton!

A traitor to the force, he was no sooner found out than he was ready to turn traitor to his pals.

"I'll promise you nothing," I coldly returned. "You can tell me what you please, and if I then think your information worthy of mercy to you, you shall have it."

"You always were a good fellow," he said, fawningly, "and I'll trust you."

"You must do exactly as I say."

"I will," he promptly answered.

An idea had occurred to me.

It was, instead of taking Stanton to the police station—where I would have been obliged to enter a specific charge against him—to take him to a secret place of confinement, and there keep him until I had bagged the river-pirates, penetrated to the Black Hole, and bursted up the villainous den.

To reach the place I had in my mind's eye, it was necessary to retrace some of our steps, and we once again entered the rough precincts right along the East River.

As Stanton had been treacherous to the force of which he was a member, was willing to be treacherous toward his pals, so, now, in keeping with his character, he acted treacherously toward me.

While passing a low drinking place—"boozing ken" was its popular name in that locality—he suddenly pursed up his lips and whistled sharply in a peculiar way, repeated a given number of times.

I knew he intended it for a signal.

I was not mistaken.

Within half a minute a little squad of men dashed out of the "boozing ken" to rescue him who had given this signal.