The Haunted Mine. Castlemon Harry

went out and sat down, and in a few minutes Mr. Wiggins came from the back room and spoke to the operator, who immediately sent off a dispatch. Nobody was called to carry this, for the message went straight to the office for which it was intended. Five minutes passed, and then a stout man, who was a stranger to all of them, strolled into the office. One of the boys got up to wait upon him, pushing some blanks toward him, but the stout man did not want to send any telegraphic dispatches.

      "I just want to look around and see how you do things here," said he.

      "Then take this chair, sir," said Mr. Wiggins. "I guess you will find that we do things about right."

      The minutes passed, and all the boys who had congregated in the office had been sent off with messages – all except Casper. There did not seem to be any dispatches for him. The chief operator was busy at his desk, when suddenly the door opened, and the same German who had called at Julian's room the night before, came in. Mr. Wiggins glanced toward him and then he looked toward Casper. The latter never could control himself when he was in difficulty, and his face grew white.

      "Is this the Western Union Telegraph office?" said the German, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. "Do I speak to Mr. Wiggins? Well, sir, I would like to see you about a box that one of your boys bought at a sale of 'old horse' in the express office. That box contains something that is off immense value to me – S. W. Haberstro." And he handed out his card with his name engraved on it.

      "There is a box here addressed to a man of that name," said Mr. Wiggins, "but it is in the bank now. I suppose you have plenty of friends here to whom you can refer?"

      "I am sorry to say that I have not," replied the German. "My home is in Chicago. I can refer you to all the Germans there."

      "Then, would it not be worth while for you to write to some of your friends there and get some letters of recommendation? You see, we don't want to give the box to anybody unless we know who it is."

      "That is all right, sir. I have some business on hand in Chicago, and I will go up there and get them."

      "That will be sufficient. Good-day, sir."

      The German, who appeared to be in a great hurry, closed the door and hastened up the street. As soon as he was gone, Mr. Wiggins beckoned to Casper and went into the back room.

      "Who was that man who just went out?" said he, in a tone of voice which did not admit of argument. "Tell me the truth."

      "His name is Claus, sir," said Casper.

      "Where does he stay, principally?"

      "He stays first in one pool-room, and then in another. Where he lives I don't know."

      "That will do," said Mr. Wiggins.

      "I never have been guilty of such a thing before," began Casper.

      "I said that would do," interrupted Mr. Wiggins. "I may see you again after a while."

      When Mr. Wiggins and Casper got out into the other room they found that the stout man had disappeared. He had gone out about the time that the German disappeared. In half an hour he came back, leaned over the desk, and spoke to the chief operator.

      "That fellow is no more Haberstro than I am," he whispered. "His name is Solomon Claus. We have had him up a time or two for vagrancy, and I'll take him up for the same cause, if you say so."

      "No; let him go, but keep your eyes on him. He has not done us any harm yet. If he comes here again I will send for you."

      CHAPTER VIII

      CLAUS CALLS AGAIN

      When the stout man reached the sidewalk he saw the German a short distance in advance of him, still hurrying along as though he had no time to waste. He turned several corners, and at last disappeared up the stairs that led to the pool-room. The detective, for that was what he was, did not seem to notice what had become of the German, but he marked the place where he had gone up and kept on to the station-house. There he changed his coat and hat, and picked up a huge walking-stick which stood in one corner. When he came out on the streets again, everybody noticed that he walked with difficulty, and there was an expression on his face which only those who were intimate with the detective would have thought belonged to him. It was very different from his ordinary appearance. Instead of the frank, open look with which he regarded everybody, it was drawn up as though he was suffering intense pain, from which he could not get a moment's relief.

      The detective speedily found the place where the German had disappeared, walked wearily up the stairs, opened the door, and sank into the nearest chair. Then he pulled a pair of eye-glasses from his pocket and became interested in a paper. But he used his eyes to some advantage, and quickly discovered the man he wanted seated off by himself, with his legs outstretched before him and his chin resting on his breast.

      "I guess he found some difficulty in getting that box," said the detective, who knew what Mr. Wiggins wanted of him before he came to the office. "You want to go easy, my friend, or I'll have you up for vagrancy again."

      There were not so many in the pool-room as there were the night before, and nobody seemed to bother the German; but presently, while he was thinking about it, another party came in. He took off his coat, seized a cue, and looked all around the room for an antagonist, until he discovered the German sitting there doing nothing.

      "Halloo, Claus!" he shouted, "come on, and let us have a game of billiards."

      "No, you must excuse me," was the reply; "I don't feel in the humor for billiards or anything else."

      "Have you anybody on a string that you are trying to make some money out of?" asked his friend. "Come on, and perhaps a game will brighten you up."

      "'Claus,'" muttered the detective. "I know you now. I was told to find out what his name was, so I will go back. So this is where you hang out. I will remember you."

      The detective hobbled out the door and down the stairs; but by the time he got down to the street his lameness had all disappeared, and he walked as briskly as anybody. He went to the Western Union Telegraph office, told Mr. Wiggins he had discovered that the man's name was Claus, and not Haberstro, and then went back to the station. Casper Nevins was called into the back room a moment afterward, but he was not there more than long enough to receive his discharge.

      "I have never done anything like this before," said Casper, trying to beg off. "If you will overlook this – "

      "I can't do it," said Mr. Wiggins. "You are a boy that I can't trust. Why, Casper, do you know what will become of you if you do not mend your ways? You will get into the State's prison before you are five years older. I paid you up yesterday, and you have not done anything to-day, and so you can go."

      "It would not be of any use for me to ask for a letter of recommendation, would it?" asked Casper. He always had a good deal of audacity about him, but this made Mr. Wiggins open his eyes in surprise.

      "Not from me, you can't," he answered. "You will have to go somewhere else to get it."

      Casper put on his cap and left the office, and on the way to the pool-room, where he expected to find Claus, he blamed everybody but himself for the disgrace he had got into. He blamed Claus, although it is hard to see what that man had done, for he worked as hard as anybody could to get that box; but he reproached Julian Gray more than all for his interference in the matter.

      "Come to think of it, I don't know but I am to blame a little myself," said he, after he had thought the affair all over. "Why did I not dig out the moment I got that box? I would have been in Denver by this time, and enjoying my wealth. It beats the world what luck some people do have."

      But Claus was not in the pool-room. He wanted to be alone, so that he could think over the matter, and he had gone out where he would be by himself. The barkeeper did not know where he had gone, and Casper went home to change his clothes. As he pulled his uniform off he told himself that it would be a long time before he ever wore it again. Then he threw himself into a chair and tried to determine what he should do next.

      "I have just ten dollars," he mused, taking the bill from his pocket, "and what I shall do when that is gone is another and a deeper question. I'll bet that Claus