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"What makes you think there is anything wrong?" parried Foster, determined, if possible, to keep the knowledge of Bob's arrest from so evident a neighborhood gossip. "Because Len Dardus closed his store on a Saturday. I've been living here thirty years, and he has never done such a thing before, but once, and that was twelve years ago, the day he brought Bob back with him.
This information set Bob's head in a whirl, and for some minutes he could not speak, but when he did, he asked hesitatingly: "Was he was he crazy?" "Crazy? well, I should say not!" ejaculated the clerk, staring at Bob in wonder. "Who owns the property now?" "A. Leon Dardus." "How'd he get it?" "By will. There was a long legal battle between Sam and John Ford and Dardus. But Dardus finally won."
"Officers, if this man does not sign this paper within two minutes, arrest him," exclaimed Mr. Perkins. Quickly the detectives moved one to either side of Len Dardus. "All right, I'll sign," he moaned, sinking into a chair. And, after reading the words admitting his guilt, he affixed his name. "Now, tell Bob you lied to him about his father." "Horace Chester was not insane."
Len Dardus?" asked Foster, walking up to the counter, behind which this repelling creature stood. "That's my name," snapped the proprietor of the store, adding as he scrutinized his questioner closely: "What do you want?" "I want to know if you have a boy working for you by the name of Bob Chester." "I have, but I won't have after to-night, I can tell you.
"I don't know anything about Dardus," announced the reporter who had taken up the cudgel in Bob's behalf, "and I don't care. If he is mixed up in questionable dealings, that doesn't mean that the boy is necessarily a party to them. You can't tell me that a chap, with a face as honest as that boy has, is a criminal."
"If you knew as much about old Dardus as I do, you wouldn't be so keen to champion this boy. The old man has been mixed up in many a questionable transaction, and I shouldn't be surprised if it turned out that he was in league with these fellows who got that country bumpkin's seven hundred and fifty dollars, and that he put the boy up to playing the part he did."
As he mentioned the grocer's going to the police station, Foster thought he noticed the old man tremble, as though in fear, and what the sergeant had said about Dardus recurred to him, and while he hesitated as to whether or not he should press the point, Bob's guardian exclaimed: "I can't go now. There is no one to look after the store. But perhaps I can go down this evening."
"What's the matter with all you guys, anyway?" snarled the sergeant, as he saw that the weight of opinion was against him. "Has the boy hypnotized you? It's enough to convict him that he should be working for Len Dardus." "That isn't his fault," returned the officer who had advised the sergeant to change the entry in his book.
Scarcely hesitating an instant, the boy replied: "To prove that Len Dardus did not tell the truth when he said my father was crazy because father wrote me he had entrusted five thousand dollars to him for my education." The expression that spread over Mr.
Saturday is always a busy day at the store, and Mr. Dardus always scolds me if I don't get right back. It doesn't make any difference to him how far I have to go, he always thinks I should be back within fifteen minutes after I have started. So I'd rather not delay because I don't like to be scolded," added the boy, as though by way of apologizing for his refusal.
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