Dan was busily engaged in trying to solve this knotty question when the bailiff in charge entered the door and told Dan to follow him to the office.

When Dan reached the room he found three gentlemen awaiting him, all strange faces to the robber.  The eldest of the three, as he came in, pointed to a chair, and with commanding brevity and in a tone which indicated that he was used to being obeyed, told him to sit down.

The full glare of the light streaming in through the window fell full upon his face, while the remainder of the party, their faces turned toward him, were comparatively in the shadow, thus having him at a disadvantage.  As was before remarked, Moriarity possessed a certain amount of bull courage, and seeing he was in for it, and feeling that he was to be put through the sweating process he sat erect in his chair, his lips compressed and his whole demeanor that of a cornered man determined to fight.

Mr. Pinkerton saw that and with courteous suavity inquired, “Is this Mr. Moriarity?”

“What’s the use of asking me; you know well enough who I am,” replied Dan, in short, curt syllables.

“Of course, of course; but I thought I might be mistaken.”

“Well, you aren’t.”

“Now, Mr. Moriarity, I think if you are inclined to you can get yourself out of this scrape.”

“Ya-as, I suppose so.

“You will let me introduce myself.  My name is William Pinkerton.”

Dan looked at the great detective with interest and a certain amount of awe, which, however, he quickly overcame and determined to keep a stiffer upper lip than ever.

“Oh!  You’re Billy Pinkerton, are you?”

“Yes, I am Billy Pinkerton, and I’ve been hunting for you for some time.”

“Well, you ought to be satisfied; you’ve caught me.”

“More than satisfied, Mr. Moriarity, for I’ve caught your friend too.”

“Cook?”

“Oh, he was jailed before you.”

“You don’t mean Jim?”

“Exactly.”

“You can’t stuff me with any such yarn as that.”

“Would you like to see him?” asked Mr. Pinkerton, quickly.

“Seeing’s believing.”

Turning to the bailiff Mr. Pinkerton inquired: 

“What cell is Jim Cummings in?”

“Forty-three, sir.”

“Will you take us there?”

“Yes, sir.  This way, please.”

The detectives with Moriarity followed the turnkey and passing the entire length of the corridor paused in front of cell forty-three.

The door of solid sheet steel had a small circular opening in it through which the guards could inspect their prisoners.

Opening this Mr. Pinkerton looked in, then stepping back told Moriarity to step forward.

Dan applied his eye to the opening and in surprised tones exclaimed, “By
God, it is Jim.”

He again looked and clinching his fist pounded on the door.  “Jim!  Jim!” he cried.  “They got you at—­”