“Yes, and it was cleverly settled, I must say, Thad.  But how about Nick’s alibi; would the Chief accept his mother’s word, knowing that the chances were Nick had slipped out of the house by a window when she supposed him to be sound asleep in his bed?”

“Oh!  Nick had much better proof than that, Hugh.  He demanded that Chief Wambold call up old Deacon Joel Winslow, who, you know, is a man much respected around Scranton, and keeps the blacksmith shop out on the road to Allandale where it crosses the one leading to Keyport.  Yes, sir, and when the officer did so from Headquarters the blacksmith weather prophet plainly told him Nick had been working alongside himself from seven until a quarter-after-eleven the night before!”

Hugh laughed.  It really seemed as though a load had been suddenly taken off his chest.  He had begun to fear lest his experiment might have already met with its Waterloo.

“I’m pleased to hear you say that, Thad, I certainly am,” he remarked, “And did our wonderful Chief conclude to hold Nick after that?”

“He wanted to, Hugh,—­I could see that plain enough; but Nick demanded that he be set at liberty.  Say, you know I’m not much of an admirer of Nick Lang, but he did bluff the tall Chief of Police good and hard.  He actually told him he’d sue him for damage to his reputation if he dared to hold him when there wasn’t a particle of evidence connecting him with the robbery, except that once upon a time he used to go with Leon Disney, as lots of other fellows did, too.”

“Then he was let go free, I take it, from what you say, Thad?”

“Oh! well, the police head said he knew very well Nick was in the racket, even if he had covered his footsteps so cunningly; and even fooled Deacon Winslow.  He told Nick he’d parole him temporarily, but that he might still consider himself as under arrest.”

“That must be a joke,” chuckled Hugh.  “It was silly on the part of Chief Wambold.  But then, of course, Nick has made him a whole lot of trouble in the past.  So only one fellow has been taken, and he refuses to tell on his pal, does he?”

“Absolutely, though the Chief says he means to put Leon through the third degree, and force a confession from him.  What does he mean by that, Hugh?  I’ve seen it mentioned in the papers lots of times.”

“I believe in cities like New York some of the detectives act roughly with a suspected prisoner, and scare them into saying things.  But a clever head of police once on a time had a smarter way of getting a confession than by rough-house tactics.”

“Yes?  Tell me about it then,” pleaded Thad.

“When he had reason to believe several members of a gang were implicated in a robbery, or other crime, he would have the weakest arrested, and brought into his presence.  Then, while the man sat there nervously waiting for the dreaded ordeal of an interview and looking out of a window, he would see one of his fellow gangsters taken past in charge of several plain clothes men.  Of course that would give him a shock, and when the Chief turned and told him the other fellow had already promised to make a confession in order to save himself, the prisoner nearly always broke down, and told everything to get in ahead.”