Andy watched him for fully five minutes, made up his mind, and at last stealthily glided up behind him.

Seizing both the fellow’s arms, he whirled him around face to face, let go of him, and with two quick movements of one hand tore the false moustache and the false goatee from his face.  His surmises were correct.  It was Jim Tapp.

The latter gave Andy a quick, startled glance.

“Wildwood!” he said, and switched his cane towards Andy’s face.

“No, you don’t!” cried Andy, grasping his arms again.  “Jim Tapp, the circus people want you.”

“Let go.  Nobody wants me.  I’ve done nothing.”

“Call Benares Brothers, the stake your partner hit me with, the stolen mail bag, nothing?” demanded Andy.  “You’ll come along with me or I’ll call the police.”

Tapp glanced sharply about.  So far nobody seemed to particularly notice them.  He threw out his own arms and grasped Andy in turn.  Thus interlocked, he threw out a foot.  Andy was taken off his guard.  He went toppling, but he never let go of his antagonist.  Both landed with a crash on the board sidewalk.

There was a vacant lot just next to a brilliantly lighted store.  As they took a roll, they landed nearly at the inner edge of the walk.

“There!” panted Andy, “you won’t trip me again.”

He was the stronger of the two, and got Tapp on his back.  Sitting astride of him, Andy caught both hands at the wrists.

“Let go!” panted Tapp.  “Say, don’t draw a crowd.  I’ll go with you.”

“You’ll go with a policeman,” declared Andy, glancing along the walk.  “There’ll be one here soon, for the crowd’s coming.”

“Fight! fight!” yelled three or four urchins, dashing up to the spot.

Others came hurrying along from inspecting the store windows.

“What’s the row?” demanded a man.

“Fair fight.  Let him up.  Give him a chance,” growled a low-browed fellow, also approaching.

“What is it? what is it?” inquired a fussy old lady, craning her neck towards the combatants.

“Say,” ground out Tapp, vainly endeavoring to free himself, “let me up.  It will pay you.  Say, I can tell you something great.”

“Can you?” smiled Andy calmly.  “Tell it to the police.”

“Hold on,” proceeded Tapp.  “I’m not fooling.  I know something.  I can put you on to something big.”

“How big?” insinuated Andy, disbelievingly.

“I can, I vow I can!  I’m in dead earnest.  Say, Wildwood, nobody knows it but me—­you’re an heir—­”

“Eh?  Bosh!  I guess your heir is all hot air.  Ah, here comes the policeman—­oh, gracious!  My aunt!”

Andy Wildwood let go his hold of Jim Tapp.  With startled eyes, in sheer dismay he stared at a woman approaching them, her curiosity aroused by the crowd.

It was his aunt, Miss Lavinia Talcott.

CHAPTER XX