"This is marked J. M., and was left here October 25th."

"That is the one," said Mr. Pinkerton, and paying the charges, hastened
back to the hotel,

In spite of his habitual calmness and sang froid, Mr. Pinkerton's hand
trembled as he cut the string. As the paper was unwrapped, both men gave
an exclamation of surprise and joy, for disclosed to view was a
revolver, a billy, some shirts and papers.

"At last," cried Mr. Pinkerton, and he eagerly scanned the various
articles. The revolver was an ordinary, self-cocking Smith & Wesson. The
billy was the sort called "life-preservers." The Adams Express letter-
heads were covered with the names "J. B. Barrett" and "W. H. Damsel."
Mr. Pinkerton passed these to his companions.

"They are pretty fair forgeries. Hang me, if it don't look as though I
had written that name myself."

The detective, all this time, was scrutinizing each article, hoping to
find something new.

With the papers he took out a printed ballad-sheet of the kind sold on
the streets by newsboys and fakirs. Turning it over, he saw something
written on it, and looking closely, read, "----, Chestnut street,"

The handwriting was the same as the handwriting of the letter. The first
clew had been found.