"Fly now, for your life fly," whispered Quirk, eagerly, to Clinton, as, rid of Arthur, they pursued their way through the thick darkness and pelting storm. "If the cry of that white-faced stripling has roused Wilkins, we're as good as lost, unless we outstrip him; for I'd about as soon have a dozen blood-hounds at my heels as him."

They sped on in silence—only now and then stopping to change hands with their heavy load—until they once more stood at the door of Clinton's house. Here, placing their booty upon the ground, Clinton lifted up a trap-door, concealed just under the steps leading up to the front entrance. With Quirk's assistance, he placed the bags of goods, one by one, in a sort of cellar, rather large than deep, thus made on account of the thinness of the soil, and closely stoned and cemented, in order to be perfectly dry. Closing the door cautiously, once more, Clinton locked it, placed over it some broken bricks, loose earth, and tufts of grass, so as effectually to conceal it, then crept out, and rubbing the dust from his clothes, prepared to enter. Quirk went in with him, and they seated themselves in the little back-room, which they had left two short hours before.

"A capital haul for one night," said Clinton, triumphantly, flinging off his great-coat, and drawing his chair to the grate, where a cheerful fire was burning, rendered necessary by the dampness.

"It isn't the first thing of the kind you were ever engaged in, Clin?"

"You know better," returned the other, with an easy confidence, but at the same time a grave look crossing his features.

"Believe me, I don't want to pry into private matters, but I couldn't help wondering to-night, as we came along, if this pretty little wife of yours knew the secret of your outgoings and your incomings."

"No, thank Heaven!" replied Clinton, with more earnestness that one would have deemed him capable of. "No, she hasn't a suspicion of such things."

"Glad of it," said Quirk, "she's happier; but I say, old boy, havn't you sometimes regretted the faithfulness to a poor girl which has deprived you of your inheritance, and forced you upon such deeds as to-night for a living?"

"No! My faithfulness to Marion has made a better man of me in some respects than otherwise I ever could have been, though it may have made me worse in others. I have in her a noble and excellent wife, with all the sterling good qualities, which, had I married a fashionable woman, I could never have found. As for my inheritance, I would care little had I but some honest trade by which to live—but that my father thought too plebeian to be introduced in the education of his fashionable son—however, if I can pick his clerk's pocket of a few more bank deposits, with my part of our spoils to-night, I'll do. I'm not always going to be so bad. If my life is spared till this business is settled, I shall spend the rest of my days in Havana. Even with the memory of my crimes in my heart, I believe I can be happy with such a treasure in my bosom as Marion. My father's pride has been my curse—my sins be upon his head."

"And if you're found out in this business, what do you think will be done?"

"Oh, I shall be bought up, without doubt. The old man's spirit could never brook to have it said he had a child in prison committed for burglary."

"Well, 'tis as well to be cautious; for I fear that young Pratt knew you, and he'll tell all he saw, I'll be bound. Reckon though if he knew he had a brother in the scrape he'd be tongue-tied. I have tried to turn suspicion on Jeff, the negro. I picked his pocket of a knife and a handkerchief, and threw them down there somewhere. I 'spose the boss would almost be tempted to string him up if he thought him guilty; however, a nigger more or less is nothing—but when it comes to such valuable members of society as you and I, caution is necessary." Here Quirk laughed coarsely.

"I'll wear whiskers awhile; that'll be disguise enough for me," said Clinton. "All that worries me is Arthur Pratt's proceeding—hope he's been good pluck."

"Never fear him; he's a little too conscientious yet awhile to be much of a b'hoy, but he'd be ashamed to show he couldn't do as well as the best of us. If that nigger didn't wake up when he went in we're safe enough in that quarter."

"Have as little to say to him as possible, to-morrow, and remember to be duly surprised at the news of the burglary."

"Trust me for that; I shall take proper care of our interests, I assure you."

"As for the disposal of the goods, that, I suppose, comes entirely upon my shoulders. I think I will dispose of this lot to Talbot; he is the best paymaster, and the first dark night I will get them away from here. After that, call for your dividends. If you are by any odd chance arrested before that, remember your oath—don't implicate anybody. Honor among thieves, you know."

"Aye, aye," returned Quirk, drinking deeply of some wine which stood upon the table. "You'll live long if you wait for me to hang you. Good night."

"Good night."

They shook hands and parted, and Quirk hurried away to his lodgings, in order to be able to say that he had occupied his own room, etc., etc., in case of trouble. As he strode away, a strange little figure enveloped in a long coat and a tattered old shawl, the better to protect it from the weather, appeared from the shadow of an adjoining building, and swung himself along between his crutches, muttering to himself: "Hih! hih! get the reward for these thieves—watch the papers I will—know all about 'em—get the reward, hih! hih! hih! hih!" and the darkness swallowed him up as it had done him who had gone before.