“If you find him,” said Mr. Gross, after he had given the above information, “you musn’t told him where you heard this, because he told me, I should say nothing about him to anybody.”

“All right,” replied Manning, “if I find him, it won’t make much difference to him who told me about him.”

As he uttered these words a peculiar look came into the shrewd face of the Jew, a look which was partly of quick suspicion and of fear, and he eyed the imperturbable detective for a few moments as though seriously in doubt about the whole affair.  Manning, however, had nothing further to say, and bidding the clothier a pleasant farewell he left the store.

On returning to the hotel, he found that he had several hours to wait, as no train would leave Bismarck until evening, and he therefore employed his time in writing up his reports and mailing them to me.

After partaking of an early tea, he returned to the railroad station, where he discovered that he had yet some time to wait before the arrival of the train, which was belated.  As he was standing on the rude platform, musing over the events which had taken place in his journey thus far, and speculating as to the probable result of his chase after an individual who had seemed, phantom-like, to have eluded his grasp at every point.

He knew full well the desperation of the man he was following, and the threat that “no two men should take him alive,” was, he realized, no idle one.  He had no doubt that unless he could circumvent him in some way, his capture might be no easy task, and that in this undeveloped country he was taking his life in his hands in the journey he was now making.  He never faltered for an instant, however; he was determined to capture this criminal, if possible, and he quietly murmured to himself:  “Well, let the worst come, a quick eye and a steady hand are good things to have in a meeting like this may be, and I’ll take care that Thomas Duncan does not catch me napping.”

His meditations were suddenly interrupted by the unexpected appearance of the little Jewish tailor, who, breathless and panting, now came scrambling up on the platform and exclaimed: 

“Py gracious, Mr. Manning!  I vas afraid you vas gone, and I hafe somedings on my mindt dot bodders me like de dickens!”

[Illustration:  “Py cracious, Mr. Manning, I hafe somedings on my mindt dot bodders me loike de dickens!”]

“What is it that troubles you, Mr. Gross?” inquired the detective, laughing in spite of himself at the little fellow’s distress.

“Vell, I’ll told you,” he answered, mopping the perspiration which was streaming from his face.  “I was tinkin’ dot may be if you git dot fellow, you vould be vantin’ me for a vitness, and s’help me Moses I vould not do dot—­not for dwo hundred tollar.”

“Oh, you need not give yourself any uneasiness on that score, Mr. Gross,” said Manning; “you will not be wanted in any case whatever.”