Dick drew back, with a shudder, as two of the officers came toward him, intent on carrying out their chief’s order.

“You’d better submit, Prescott,” warned the chief sternly.  “We’re not in a mood to stand any fooling.”

“But won’t you listen-----” began Dick, gasping.

“I’m not the trial judge,” jeered Simmons.  “Still, I’ll listen to you all you want, later in the night.  Now, stand forward!”

Dick realized the folly and the uselessness of defying the police.  He moved nearer to the chief, as ordered.  And Prescott began to understand how black the whole affair looked for him.

But how had it happened?

He would have given worlds to know.

“Hold your hands forward, and together,” commanded Chief Simmons.

Quivering, flushing with the shame of the thing, young Prescott obeyed.  The officer who fitted the handcuffs to the boy’s wrists felt ashamed of his work, for he had always been one of Dick’s friends.

The click of the steel ratchets brought Prescott back to a realization of things.

“I’m not much of a catch, chief,” muttered the boy.  “You’d better not be content with me alone.  Leave me under watch and then the rest of you had better spread through this place.  I think there are others here—–­the men you seek.”

“You’ve confederates here, have you?” demanded Simmons, fixing his suspicious gaze on the boy.  “Judkins, you watch Prescott—–­and mind you don’t let him give you the slip.  The rest of us will keep on going through this store.  You say you think there are others here, Prescott?”

“I think so,” replied the boy.

Chief Simmons raised his voice.

“If there’s anyone here-----” he called.

“There is!” came back in a tone that made Dick Prescott start and throb with alarm.

“Who—–­where—–­” asked Chief Simmons, excitedly.

“Right here!” came the voice.  “Hold your lights on me!”

Two flash-lights at once centered their rays on the speaker, and Dave Darrin bounded forward into the light.

“So you two have been working this thing as side partners, have you?” asked Chief Simmons harshly.  “Great Scott, how you’ve fooled us, then!  Like everyone else, we believed you two boys to be straight.  Tell me,” commanded Simmons dryly, “is Editor Pollock in this store-robbing gang, too?”

“Ask Mr. Pollock yourself,” Dave flung back.

“I will, when I get time,” retorted Simmons.  “Grab Darrin and put the irons on his wrists, too!”

CHAPTER XXIV

Dave Gives Points to the Chief of Police

“You clumsy bungler!” spoke Dave Darrin hotly.  “Chief, I demand the right to speak to you for a moment.”

“After you’re ironed and taken to the station house,” snapped Mr. Simmons.

“Chief, you’re not afraid to step aside with me and listen to about ten words?” demanded Darrin scornfully.  “And if you don’t—–­if you go on in your bull-headed way—–­you’ll be the scorn of the town by morning.  Why don’t you hear what I’ve got to say, instead of letting precious seconds slip by.  Come!  Over this way!”