"Big Robbery. Watchman Chloroformed. Supposed to be the work of the notorious criminal, the Phantom Cracksman," read this newspaper article. It was a big joke at the police headquarters and the joke was on Nolan, who had sworn he would capture this elusive crook. It was the talk of all the clubs. Mr. Brandt, of the Republican Club, sneered at what he called the inefficiency of the police. "I'd like to see him rob my house," was the last remark as he left the club that evening. A few hours later the joke was on him. Notwithstanding his elaborate system of burglar alarms, "The Phantom Cracksman" walked in and cleaned out his safe while he was dozing on a chair in the adjoining room. The police and press were soon on the scene and also some of his friends from the club. The police pointed out that the burglar had entered through a window which was fairly obvious, as Mr. Brandt had seen him go out that way, and the garden path below showed evidences of bad marksmanship. Brandt was getting worked up into a rage. The reporters made notes, but no one seemed to do anything. A few weeks later he was robbed again and this time he caught a glimpse of the "Phantom Cracksman's" face. He was surprised to find that it was the face of a woman. It was months before he saw her again, this time as a woman of fashion, who knew how to spend (his) money lavishly and artistically. Controlling himself with an effort, he sent the hotel clerk for the police and addressed her. As she turned to flee he seized her by the wrist. Two or three flashes from her eyes and one or two pleading remarks and he was on her side and ready to stand between her and the police. But the wages of sin; she died in his arms with a bullet in her lungs.