"Pleasure is the ruling spirit now.

You should be here some time when there is a fight, and then you would think that hell was a reality, and these people devils incarnate." While they were thus conversing, the proprietor of the establishment, Jerry Taylor, approached them, and respectfully saluting the officer, whom he knew, said smilingly: "Seein' the sights of the city, are you, lieutenant ?" "Well, yes, Jerry; that's part of our business.

But we are looking for a young man who was here a few days ago, and perhaps you can help us ?" "Well, if I can do anything for you I will," answered Jerry, who was a tall, broad-shouldered, black-haired man, with flashing black eyes and a somber mustache, which trailed below his chin.

"Come over into the wine-room, where we can talk.

We can't do it here for the noise." Accepting the suggestion, the three men walked across the room, and entering a narrow doorway in one corner, were ushered into an apartment which was designated as the "wine-room." This room was occupied by the better dressed portion of the habitues of the place, and their deportment was much more circumspect than those in the larger room outside.