"Well, we will take your word for it, seein' we don't need the money for anything, and wouldn't take it nohow," said the young detective, who divined the purpose of the old fence.

"But if you don't get it, how can I make you boys a present? You will not allow me to go for it," said the fence, fearing his scheme had failed him.

"We don't want no present, so don't worry yourself about that."

"We prefer taking you with us, rather than the present," said Herbert.

"Old man," continued Bob, "your game didn't work. All you wanted was to get me out of the way so you could er layed Vermont out. But it warn't no go. You was too anxious to give away money. I could see all the time what you was aimin' at."

The old fence protested against this interpretation of his motives, but the boys were too keen for him. Young Bob Hunter had been knocking about the streets of New York too long to be very easily taken in by this old Gunwagner. His wits had been sharpened to a high degree in his long struggle for bread, and his knowledge of human nature was as superior to that of Herbert Randolph as the latter's general education was superior to Bob's.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GUNWAGNER IN THE HANDS OF THE POLICE.]

Finding it impossible to work upon the sympathy of the boys, that buying them off was out of the question, and that the scheme to outwit them had proved a flat failure, Gunwagner now turned to the last weapon which he could hope to use with any possible effect.

"So you have made up your mind to take me with you?" said he, looking hard at Herbert.

"Yes," replied the latter, firmly.

"You will make the biggest mistake of your life, if you attempt such an outrage."

"An outrage! Is that what you call it, when a detective takes a bird like you in?" said Bob Hunter, in his characteristic manner.

The old fence looked fiercely at him.

"My friends are all around here, and I can raise a dozen of them before you could get me half a block away."

"We do not feel uneasy about your so called friends," said young Randolph. "But if you prefer it, we will send for an officer, and let him take you."

"If your friends go back on you the way Mortimer done tonight, when he told you he would look out for himself, and let you fight it out alone, why, then I guess me and Vermont needn't bother much about your gang."

Further intimidation was tried by Gunwagner, but all to no purpose, for now the boys were in the act of fastening together the wrists of the old fence, and binding them securely to a chair. When this had been done, so that they no longer felt any insecurity, they took from his pocket the keys to both doors leading to the street, and Bob Hunter started for an officer. Young Randolph remained with the prisoner, because he was stronger than Bob, and therefore would be the better able to handle him, should he by any means get his hands loose.

Now every hope had failed the old man. He saw nothing but Sing Sing before him. His evil purpose had at last recoiled upon him, and he was a prisoner in the hands of one who but a few hours before had begged of him for mercy.

While waiting for the return of Bob with the officer, Herbert asked Gunwagner if the money he had made in crooked and unlawful ways had brought him happiness. He made no audible reply, but sat with his head bent low. An answer, however, was conveyed to our young hero by a silent tear that made its way slowly down the wrinkled and aged face of the old man, whose life had been worse than wasted, for it had been an evil one.

CHAPTER XVIII.

TOM FLANNERY IS HUNGRY.

It was past midnight when Herbert Randolph and Bob Hunter reached their room. The old fence had meanwhile been taken to the station house by an officer. Both boys were sleepy and well nigh exhausted, so they immediately sought rest.

Bob, however, was up at his usual hour in the morning, and off to look after his paper trade. Business proved good with him on this occasion--unusually good--so that his profits amounted to quite a nice little sum. He therefore planned to give Herbert a good warm breakfast, something better than it had been their custom to eat.

Presently Tom Flannery appeared.

"You here, Bob?" said the latter, with surprise. "I thought you was done for, sure."

"What made you think that, Tom?"

"Why, because you didn't show up."

"You didn't wait for me, did you?"

"Didn't I? Well, I should think I did, till near twelve o'clock, too, when I was so near froze I couldn't stay no longer; and Bob, I thought it was all up with you."

"Why, Tom, you hadn't oughter staid. I told you to go home after you lit the fire."

"I know you did, Bob, but I didn't feel like goin' home and leavin' you alone in that den. You see I thought you might need me."

"Tom, you've got more sand than I thought you had. I wish I coulder fixed it so you coulder been on the inside too."

"I wish you could, Bob. Was it excitin'?"

"Excitin'! Well, wasn't it, though! I never saw anything like it. But I say, Tom, that was a great go. You done it splendid."

"What's that, Bob?"

"Why, the fire act. I don't believe n.o.body could beat that."

Tom enjoyed this praise hugely.

"I wouldn't like to a' been in your place, Bob," said he, "when you was in that dark room, nor when old Gunwagner and that other feller was huntin' for you."

"No, I thought you wouldn't, Tom, and I didn't want to be there neither."

"'Twas a big detective job, wasn't it, Bob?"

"Well, 'twas a pretty fair one, I guess."

"And you got it all up yourself," continued Tom, admiringly. "I wish I could do things the way you do, Bob."

"Well, you see, Tom, you hain't had so much experience as what I have, but you'll come out all right, and make a big detective, I know you will."

Bob stopped talking to sell a paper, and after making change and pocketing his profit, he continued:

"Now, Tom, I tell you what 'tis: you and me and Herbert will eat breakfast together, when he comes down."

"When will he be down?" asked Tom, his hand dropping instinctively upon his empty stomach.

Tom Flannery was known among his crowd of street lads as the hungry boy.

He was always ready to eat, and never seemed to get enough food to satisfy the cravings of his appet.i.te. This invitation, therefore, was very welcome to him.