"Yes, I'm _sure_ I made a good bargain, Dollops," he said. "Come in."
And in this way the attachment which existed between them ever afterward
had its beginning.

He took the boy in and up to the little room on the second floor which
he called his den; and, turning on the light, motioned him to a chair,
laid aside his hat and gloves, and was just about to pull up a chair for
himself when he caught sight of an unstamped letter lying upon his
writing-table.

"Sit down there and wait a moment until I read this, my lad," he said;
and forthwith tore the letter open.

It was from Superintendent Narkom. He had known that from the first,
however. No one but Narkom ever wrote him letters. This one was
exceedingly brief. It simply contained these two lines:

"My dear Cleek. The Three Jolly Fishermen, Richmond, at tea-time
to-morrow. An astonishing affair. Yours, M. N."

"Dollops, my lad, I think I'm going to make a man of you," he said as he
tore the letter into a dozen pieces and tossed the fragments into a
waste-basket. "At any rate, I'm going to have a try. Know anything about
Richmond?"

"Yuss, sir."

"Good. Well, we'll have a half-hour's talk and then I'll find a
temporary bed for you for the night, and to-morrow we'll take a pull on