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 dies, &c., among which were complete sets of plates for all denominations of the National Currency, from fifty cents to fifty dollars; together with $60,000 of the "queer," all ready to be put upon the market; and afterwards offered fifty, sixty, up to eighty-five thousand dollars, if they would release him. But Pete's offer was declined. He was taken by the Detectives to St. Louis, then to Springfield, Ill's., and was placed by his escort in close quarters again, where the U. S. Marshal took care he should be so guarded as that another escape from his old prison-house should not readily occur—as he believed.

Upon a brief interview between Col. Whitley and McCartney, however, about this time, the following incident occurred; which tends to show how easy it is for even the skilled Detective to be sometimes at fault! As the Chief was about to quit the cell of McCartney, the prisoner said, pleasantly, "You won't leave me here, I suppose, Colonel?"

"Yes, for the present," replied the Chief. " You're safe here, now."

"Oh, I can get out of this place easy enough. I have done so before, and I can do it again."

"I guess not," said the officer, with confident emphasis.

"Where are you stopping. Colonel?" asked Pete.

"At the hotel."

"Your number?"

"Room twenty-four."

"Thank you. I will call on you, at ten."

The Chief smiled, accepted the pleasant jest, bade Mac "good night," and left him.

He had forgotten the boastful words of the coney man, and was sitting in his apartments, writing, when just after ten o'clock, he heard a low rap at his door. "Come in," he said.