Mrs. Latimer came in; the snoring matter was settled in a joke, and I was made to stay and take a private supper with them, which, in due time, was served in superb order; and I left that house to go home at last with a firm friend in Mr. Latimer, who has never failed to send me business, when he could command it, from that day.
He is ignorant of the young robber's real name to this day; and, indeed, said he did not care to know it; when, four years after the occurrence, as he was one day badgering me to satisfy his curiosity on that point, I told him the man had reformed, and was made a good citizen of, indirectly through the facts that the safe was probably unlocked that night, and that he and his wife snored so loudly.
LEWELLYN PAYNE AND THE COUNTERFEITERS.
AN IDLE TIME—A CALL FROM MY OLD "CHIEF"—THE CASE IN HAND OUTLINED—I DISCOVER AN OLD ENEMY IN THE LIST OF COUNTERFEITERS, AND LAY MY PLANS—TAKE BOARD IN NINETEENTH STREET, AND OPEN A LAW OFFICE IN JAUNCEY COURT—MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF MRS. PAYNE, LEWELLYN'S MOTHER, AND FINALLY GET ACQUAINTED WITH HIM—HE VISITS MY LAW OFFICE—I AM INGRATIATED IN HIS FAVOR—I TRACK HIM INTO MY ENEMY'S COMPANY, AND FEEL SURE OF SUCCESS—LEWELLYN FINALLY CONFESSES TO ME HIS TERRIBLE SITUATION—CERTAIN PLANS LAID—I MAKE "COLLINS'" ACQUAINTANCE—VISIT A GAMBLING SALOON WITH HIM—A HEAVY WAGER—FIFTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS AT HAZARD, PAYNE'S ALL—THE COUNTERFEITING GAMBLERS CAUGHT TOGETHER—A SEVERE STRUGGLE—PAYNE SAVED AT LAST, AND HIS MONEY TOO—A REFORMED SON AND A HAPPY MOTHER—TWO "BIRDS" SENT TO THE PENITENTIARY.
There had been a lull in business for a time with me soon after I had left an organized force of private detectives, and with the promised assistance of some friends, mercantile and otherwise, whom I had served more or less, under the direction of the chief of the corps to which I belonged, had taken a private office, and was beginning to wish that I was not so much "my own master," and had more to do.
During those days I tried to divert my mind with much reading, and one day, poring over De Quincey's "Opium Eater," I was half buried in oblivion to all particular things around me, though wonderfully aroused to a sweet sensuousness of all things material, when my old chief entered my office. I was not a little surprised to see him, for it had been weeks since I had met him, and that casual meeting was the first time I had seen him since my resignation from the corps.
"Good day, my boy," said he, giving me a hearty grasp of the hand. He looked weary and worn. I thought he looked vexed, too, about something, and I asked, "Well, what's up? What ails you? Are you unwell?" "No," said he, "not unwell; in fact, never in better health; but business annoys me. I've been on a scent for some parties for quite a while, and I can get nobody to do what I want done. Report of failure to find out what I want has just been rendered an hour ago, and I have come down to see if you can't help me out."