ALEXANDER SLOCUM IS BROUGHT TO BOOK.
In half an hour after the arrest of the pickpocket the young oarsman and his companions found themselves on the outskirts of Brooklyn and bowling along a smooth country road which the detectives said they knew well.
On and on they went, until Colonel Dartwell asked the driver how much further they had to go.
“About half a mile, sir,” was the answer.
His words proved correct. Turning into a side road, the carriage came to the entrance to a large grounds, surrounded by a high board fence.
Over the gateway was the sign:
| DR. HALCONE’S PRIVATE SANITARIUM. |
“A private lunatic asylum,” murmured Colonel Dartwell.
“Yes, sir,” said the driver. “You know I told you they said the young lady was a bit off.”
“What shall we do?” was the question put by the westerner to the detectives. “Shall we go in boldly and order them to produce the girl?”