"What makes you think that?" inquired Webster, doubtfully.
"Many things. Why, only the other day I was taken before Lieutenant Watts, who has charge of the station-house, and the questions he put to me about the gang, convinced me that he knew a great deal more than was good for us."
"Did he ask anything about me?" queried Webster.
"No," replied Sam, "and if he had I wouldn't have told him anything, you may be sure."
"I can readily believe that," said the detective, "but if it is so dangerous here, how am I going to deliver these letters?"
"I can help you there," said Sloan, after a moment's consideration; "John Earl, Richardson and I will see that they are delivered, and that will keep you from incurring suspicion."
"That will do," said Webster, "and you can tell the people you see to write their answers at once, and inclose them in two envelopes, one directed to their friend, and the other to John Hart, at Miller's Hotel."
"I understand; but who is this John Hart you mention—can we trust him?"
"I think so," replied the detective, laughing heartily; "his other name is Timothy Webster."
"By Jove, Webster, you're a good one; I begin to think myself that there isn't so much danger of your getting caught after all."