"Not on yer life!" replied the newly appointed deputy.
Outside, he found a fellow deputy, also newly appointed.
"Pat," said Mike, holding out the subpoena, "phat is the meanin' o' thim two wurrds?"
His friend carefully examined the paper.
"'Duces tecum'," he repeated thoughtfully. "'Dooces taycum.' They be Latin words meanin' 'take him alive or dead.'"
"Thanks," said Mike. "Trust me!"
And he started forthwith for Wall Street, where Mr. Winthrop Van Rennsellaer's office was located. Having ascertained by inquiry that his quarry was in, Mike pushed by the clerks and scriveners in the outer offices and armed with the majesty of the law, boldly forced his way into the lawyer's sanctum. Marching up to him, he demanded in a loud voice:
"Are you Van Rennsellaer?"
The lawyer, exceedingly astonished, replied, with what dignity he was able to assume under the circumstances;
"I am Mister Winthrop Van Rennsellaer."