The preacher needed no second invitation, fear of exposure giving wings to his feet.  Almost at a bound he cleared the two flights of stairs and emerged into the street, walking several blocks, and turning a number of corners before he dared to look back.

The bona fide occupant of the room where these parties met had no share whatever in the nefarious transactions carried on there.  Through the treachery of the janitor, Ragem was permitted at certain hours to make use of the apartment for the purpose of keeping appointments with his victims.  A confederate stationed on the outside delivered the knocks as soon as customers were plucked and it became desirable to get rid of their company.  Occasional hints of improper practices reached the ear of the real lessee, but these had never yet taken such shape as to give a decisive clew to the trouble, dupes for the most part pocketing their losses in silence.

After an interval of two or three hours Mr. Sapp plucked up courage to return.  Having mounted the stairs, he entered the room warily.  His late partner was not there.  A stalwart gentleman, who seemed to be the proprietor, 1ooked up inquiringly, and was not a little puzzled when the visitor supplemented the performance of wiping the right corner of his mouth by three deliberate nods.  “What can I do for you to-day?” inquired the gentleman, rising.

“You are, I presume, a partner of Mr. Ragem,” answered Sapp.  “I see he is out.  Our business this morning was unfortunately interrupted by the police, and I have returned to complete it.”

“What business?” asked the proprietor, in undisguised astonishment.

Now the preacher made the very natural mistake of supposing that the surprise manifested by his interlocutor was a mere matter of policy and caution.  Hence he proceeded to explain.  “Ragem must have told you.  I am the gentleman who gave him the five hundred dollars, and he said that my twenty-five thousand were locked up in the safe.”

The proprietor did not wait to hear more, but seizing the affrighted creature by the collar, thundered forth, “I have heard of you before.  You are the villain, are you, who has been turning my office into a den of thieves?  I have caught you at last!”

Awaking to a partial comprehension of the situation, the poor wretch stammered forth, “There must be some mistake.  My name is a—­ is a—­is a Smith—­Smith—­John Smith.”

“John Smith, is it?” growled the proprietor.  “Well, all I have to say is, John Smith, if not the biggest is the most numerous rascal in the city.  John, come along to the police station.”

And John went, billows of trouble rolling over him as the waters of the Red Sea closed over Pharaoh.  Vain the effort to recall consolatory texts pertinent to the occasion!  He was sorely chastened indeed, but the stripes were inflicted not in love but in wrath.  He mourned, yet whence could he look for comfort?