“The two large stones belong to Amos Palmer, the others I never saw before, and you’d better hook your man as soon as possible, because he is beginning to smell powder,” said the gentleman, in a low tone.

“I’m ready for him,” muttered the detective, as he grabbed his hat, crushed it upon his head, and vanished out of the back door with a good deal more of elasticity in his step than when he had entered.

Going around to the front entrance he sauntered into the store and up to the counter, where Mr. Cohen was apparently trying to drive a close bargain for the Australian(?) diamonds, but really waiting for some sign from the men closeted in his office.

He paused at the entrance of the new-comer, bowed gravely, and politely inquired: 

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“I’m sorry to give you any trouble,” the detective returned, in quick, sharp tones, “but it is my duty to arrest this man!  You are my prisoner, sir,” he concluded, laying his hand on the shoulder of the supposed miner.

A startled oath broke from the man’s lips, and he made an agile spring for the door.

But the detective was too quick for him, and deftly placed a pair of twisters about his wrists, with such force as to wring a howl of agony from him.

“None of that, my fine fellow,” Mr. Rider said, sternly, as he slyly tried to slip his other hand underneath his coat, and he gave the twisters another forcible turn.  “Just you let that revolver alone.”

“All right,” said the miner, apparently yielding; “but what’s the charge?  Ye can’t expect a fellar to submit very tamely to this kind o’ thing without knowing what he’s nabbed for.”

“I arrest you for robbery.  These diamonds are stolen property,” was the brief reply of the detective.

“You don’t say!” drawled the man, in a tone of sarcastic wonder.  “Perhaps ye’ll be good enough to prove what ye assert.”

The detective could but admire the cool effrontery of the fellow, but he quietly responded: 

“It has already been proved—­those large diamonds have just been identified.”

“Ah!”

The miner said no more, but quietly submitted to have a pair of handcuffs snapped on his wrists.

The diamonds were secured, and the prisoner was marched off to the station-house, while Ezra Cohen gave utterance to a sigh of relief over the fact that he had made no mistake.

CHAPTER IX.

MR. RIDER RECEIVES ANOTHER SET-BACK.

Jake Walton, as the supposed miner gave his name, was thoroughly searched by Detective Rider, after reaching the station-house, but nothing suspicious was found upon him except a revolver.  He had considerable money, but nothing to indicate that he had ever been concerned in any robbery, or to confirm the belief that he was other than he pretended to be.

He submitted to being searched with the utmost indifference, but drawlingly remarked during the operation, he “supposed they’d take bail—­he wasn’t used to bein’ shut up, and it would come pretty tough on him.”