"Your money is here in the safe," said Ragem, taking the five
notes, and turning toward the safe as if to unlock it. But the
scoundrel evidently reasoned that it would be silly to remain
content with the five when he could just as easily capture the
sixth.

Walking back, he remarked, "I want to show you that my large bills
are just as perfect as the small ones"; and, as if for purposes of
comparison, he took the remaining note from the hand of the
clergyman.

At this moment began a fearful knocking on a side door, that
threatened the speedy demolition of the frail barrier. "Run, run,"
whispered Ragem, as if in the extremity of terror, "the police are
on us."

The preacher needed no second invitation, fear of exposure giving
wings to his feet. Almost at a bound he cleared the two flights of
stairs and emerged into the street, walking several blocks, and
turning a number of corners before he dared to look back.

The bona fide occupant of the room where these parties met had no
share whatever in the nefarious transactions carried on there.
Through the treachery of the janitor, Ragem was permitted at
certain hours to make use of the apartment for the purpose of
keeping appointments with his victims. A confederate stationed on
the outside delivered the knocks as soon as customers were plucked
and it became desirable to get rid of their company. Occasional
hints of improper practices reached the ear of the real lessee, but
these had never yet taken such shape as to give a decisive clew to