Jersey City until four o'clock, one hour after the morning papers go
to press. Of course, we must fix Hefflefinger so's he'll keep quiet
and not tell who his prisoner really is."

The sporting editor reached his hand out to pat Gallegher on the head,
but changed his mind and shook hands with him instead.

"My boy," he said, "you are an infant phenomenon. If I can pull the
rest of this thing off to-night it will mean the $5,000 reward and
fame galore for you and the paper. Now, I'm going to write a note to
the managing editor, and you can take it around to him and tell him
what you've done and what I am going to do, and he'll take you back on
the paper and raise your salary. Perhaps you didn't know you've been
discharged?"

"Do you think you ain't a-going to take me with you?" demanded
Gallegher.

"Why, certainly not. Why should I? It all lies with the detective and
myself now. You've done your share, and done it well. If the man's
caught, the reward's yours. But you'd only be in the way now. You'd
better go to the office and make your peace with the chief."

"If the paper can get along without me, I can get along without the
old paper," said Gallegher, hotly. "And if I ain't a-going with you,
you ain't neither, for I know where Hefflefinger is to be, and you
don't, and I won't tell you."

"Oh, very well, very well," replied the sporting editor, weakly
capitulating. "I'll send the note by a messenger; only mind, if you