DISAPPOINTED AGAIN.

With ears wide open, and with an expression of intense interest, Shadow remained stretched in the narrow passage in the pile of old junk, listening to the words that fell from the lips of the villains gathered there in the office.

He was all expectancy.

He fully believed that one among the rascals could solve the mystery which he had so long been endeavoring to probe.

Would this particular fellow tell of this particular rascally exploit?

Shadow hoped so.

As time passed by, however, without one word being said, the mysterious detective began to grow impatient, since the particular thing about which he wished to learn was not mentioned.

However, he paid strict attention to the many stories of rascality which they told. The knowledge thus derived might be of use some time.

More than once the secret listener shuddered on hearing the tales that were told.

It seemed to him as if all the crimes that were ever committed could not sum up as large a total as these men boasted of having committed.

And, at the moment when his cheeks were paling over some horrid relation, he could hear the whole gang joining in a hearty laugh.

That they were able to laugh over descriptions of bloodshed and death was ample evidence of the manner of men they were, and Shadow more fully realized the peril which surrounded him so long as he should remain in the old sugar-house.

"That's the list of the things I've done, and never been nabbed yet," said one, as he finished a story of crime.

"You've heard all my exploits," said another.

"And mine."

"And mine."

Shadow sighed.

Not one word concerning that of which he wished to hear had been uttered.

He had waited expectantly—had hoped until the very last boastful tale had been told, but had hoped in vain.

And now the sigh that he gave utterance to was filled with disappointment.

His head sadly drooped, and he felt as if he hardly cared whether his presence was discovered or not. Repeated disappointments had taken away his courage for the time being.

It was now very late.

Morning was not so very far distant, and the villainous party broke up and left the place, to separate and depart for their various places of abode.

At last an intense silence rested over the place, and except the sentinel at the door and Cap in a distant corner, in a partitioned-off room, Shadow was alone in the big place.

Reckless, and disheartened, and discouraged as he had felt, he had been wise enough to remain so silent as not to betray himself.

Up to the present moment he had not stirred. But now he shifted his position a little to a more comfortable one, and became lost in thought.

He had been disappointed before—had been cast down, but had recovered both confidence and courage. Why could he not do so now?

So he asked himself.

Patience and perseverance never yet failed to meet with a proper reward, he told himself, and presently he began to brighten up—became more hopeful.

Was there any use in longer remaining here in the old sugar-house?

Clearly not, he thought.

Then to bid it farewell.

He backed down the passage until he reached the spot where Cap had so disarranged the "stuff" as to leave only an empty box between the passage and the open floor beyond.

After listening a minute, Shadow then softly shoved back the box, without making any noise, and next crawled out of his cramped quarters.

Before attempting to move away from the spot, he was sensible enough to wait until he had got some fresh breath, and had limbered himself up a little.

Perhaps five minutes later, he started toward the stairs that descended to the vaults below.

It was necessary to approach within a dozen or fifteen feet of the sentinel.

Knowing of the latter's presence, Shadow exercised great caution as he drew near him. Had the sentinel been wide-awake and bright, Shadow could hardly have made the passage undetected.

But the fellow was nodding in a state of half-slumber, and failed to hear the light-footed detective.

Shadow safely reached the head of the stairs, and commenced descending. The descent was safely accomplished, and once in the vault, all danger was passed.

On stepping forth into the streets, his first care was to visit a restaurant; and how he did eat.

"I say," remarked the waiter, after having received a third and a fourth order from Shadow, "I say," and his eyes were big as saucers in his surprise, "be you holler clean down to your heels?"

"I'm hungry, that's all."

"Hungry? Well, I should say so."

On receiving a fifth order from the detective, the waiter, before filling it, took the proprietor of the place into a consultation.

Shadow's grub bill was of a pretty good size, and from his appearance the waiter was in doubt as to whether he was good for the amount, let alone a greater one.

"Show your hand, young feller," remarked the waiter, on returning, before placing the ordered edibles before Shadow.

The latter understood, and a quiet smile began playing about his lips.

Placing his hand in his pocket he took out and ostentatiously laid down a five-dollar bill.

"Good enough!" grunted the waiter, setting down the plates. "Fill up the cavity. I guess I kin fetch the grub as fast as you kin stow it away."

With Shadow's departure from the restaurant we must drop him for a while. But we again introduce him, disguised as a mulatto, as he glided up to the writer of these lines, and, with extended hand, simply said:

"Shadow!"

Was this Shadow?

I could hardly believe my eyes.

Adept as I was myself in the arts of disguise, if this was the mysterious detective, he was able to equal if not even outdo my ability.

"Shadow!"

So he repeated, when I allowed a full minute to pass without having spoken a word.

"Are you Shadow?"

He made a disdainful gesture, and in an impatient tone repeated that one word.

"I want you to answer me a few questions," I said.

An instant later I could no longer doubt his identity. He raised his hand, and I saw him shake his index finger in that peculiar way, as I saw him do on the occasion of our first acquaintance, when I saw his shadow do the same thing. But there was a difference, since, on the present occasion, the finger was shaken at me.

Then he remained holding out his hand, and I could not but know what it was he wanted.

It was his share of the reward, which he had not yet claimed.

I found that to ask him any questions would only result in angering him, so I placed a roll of bills in his hands, which I had kept ready and waiting for him.

Without a word of thanks or farewell, he turned on his heel, and within the space of a minute had vanished from my sight.

Our meeting had occurred on a corner, before the doors of a liquor saloon. Several hard characters had watched us, and by aid of the lamp on the corner had seen that it was a roll of bills that I handed Shadow, although, of course, they knew neither of us.

Instantly they took a hasty departure by means of a back entrance, their object being to attack and rob the mysterious detective.

By means of an alley-way they headed him off, and lying in ambush, sprang out upon his approach, and flung themselves toward him.