He was baffled; he could not deny it.
Accompanied by the crestfallen Schneider, he repaired to the station at last, and reported the occurrences of the night.
In a short space of time every newspaper in the city was preparing for their morning issues an account of the bold robbery of the Webster National Bank.
The great clock in Trinity steeple had rang out the hour of four, when Detective Hook, still hovering about the scene of his late defeat, turned, for the twentieth time that night, the corner of Rector street and Broadway.
As he did so there brushed past him the figure of a woman, plainly but neatly dressed, with gray hair hanging down from beneath her worsted hood, and wild, roving eyes, moving restlessly from one object to another as she walked along.
"Bats in the wall! Bats in the wall!" she muttered, as she passed. "Blessed be the bats in the wall for what they have done for my erring boy this night!"
[CHAPTER VI.]
WHAT HAPPENED AT THE CATHERINE MARKET.
Of all the quaint old landmarks still standing in the city of New York that serve to remind the more ancient of its inhabitants of the days when they were young, surely none so quaint and curious as the old Catherine Market and its surroundings can be said anywhere to exist.