The officers nodded and smiled their admiration for the representative
of what is, perhaps, the best detective force in the world, and let
him pass.

Then Hefflefinger turned and spoke to Gallegher, who still stood as
watchful as a dog at his side. "I'm going to his room to get the bonds
and stuff," he whispered; "then I'll march him to the station and take
that train. I've done my share; don't forget yours!"

"Oh, you'll get your money right enough," said Gallegher. "And, sa-ay,"
he added, with the appreciative nod of an expert, "do you know, you did
it rather well."

Mr. Dwyer had been writing while the raid was settling down, as he had
been writing while waiting for the fight to begin. Now he walked over
to where the other correspondents stood in angry conclave.

The newspaper men had informed the officers who hemmed them in that
they represented the principal papers of the country, and were
expostulating vigorously with the captain, who had planned the raid,
and who declared they were under arrest.

[Illustration with caption: "For God's sake," Hade begged, "let me
go!"]

"Don't be an ass, Scott," said Mr. Dwyer, who was too excited to be
polite or politic. "You know our being here isn't a matter of choice.
We came here on business, as you did, and you've no right to hold us."