“I am Mr. Dwyer, of the Press,” said the sporting editor, briskly.  “You’ve heard of me, perhaps.  Well, there shouldn’t be any difficulty in our making a deal, should there?  This boy here has found Hade, and we have reason to believe he will be among the spectators at the fight to-night.  We want you to arrest him quietly, and as secretly as possible.  You can do it with your papers and your badge easily enough.  We want you to pretend that you believe he is this burglar you came over after.  If you will do this, and take him away without any one so much as suspecting who he really is, and on the train that passes here at 1.20 for New York, we will give you $500 out of the $5,000 reward.  If, however, one other paper, either in New York or Philadelphia, or anywhere else, knows of the arrest, you won’t get a cent.  Now, what do you say?”

The detective had a great deal to say.  He wasn’t at all sure the man Gallegher suspected was Hade; he feared he might get himself into trouble by making a false arrest, and if it should be the man, he was afraid the local police would interfere.

“We’ve no time to argue or debate this matter,” said Dwyer, warmly.  “We agree to point Hade out to you in the crowd.  After the fight is over you arrest him as we have directed, and you get the money and the credit of the arrest.  If you don’t like this, I will arrest the man myself, and have him driven to town, with a pistol for a warrant.”

Hefflefinger considered in silence and then agreed unconditionally.  “As you say, Mr. Dwyer,” he returned.  “I’ve heard of you for a thoroughbred sport.  I know you’ll do what you say you’ll do; and as for me I’ll do what you say and just as you say, and it’s a very pretty piece of work as it stands.”

They all stepped back into the cab, and then it was that they were met by a fresh difficulty, how to get the detective into the barn where the fight was to take place, for neither of the two men had $250 to pay for his admittance.

But this was overcome when Gallegher remembered the window of which young Keppler had told him.

In the event of Hade’s losing courage and not daring to show himself in the crowd around the ring, it was agreed that Dwyer should come to the barn and warn Hefflefinger; but if he should come, Dwyer was merely to keep near him and to signify by a prearranged gesture which one of the crowd he was.

They drew up before a great black shadow of a house, dark, forbidding, and apparently deserted.  But at the sound of the wheels on the gravel the door opened, letting out a stream of warm, cheerful light, and a man’s voice said, “Put out those lights.  Don’t youse know no better than that?” This was Keppler, and he welcomed Mr. Dwyer with effusive courtesy.

The two men showed in the stream of light, and the door closed on them, leaving the house as it was at first, black and silent, save for the dripping of the rain and snow from the eaves.