An instant later both prisoners had been handcuffed, and a pistol had been taken from the clothing of each.  From the junkman, too, had been taken a ring of keys.

“One of these fit your door?” demanded Simmons.

“Yes,” growled the scowling one.  “The long key.”

“Bring the prisoners along, Delmar,” ordered the chief.  “I’ll lock up here.  We’ll come back later for a search.”

Out on the sidewalk Phin Drayne plucked up courage enough to find his voice.

“For goodness’ sake, let me go, Chief,” he begged, falteringly.  “I haven’t done anything, although things look against me.”

“I guess we’ll be able to put things enough against you,” retorted the police official mockingly.

“Think of my mother!” pleaded the wild boy.   “Think of our family—–­one
of the most respectable in town.   Think of-----”

“Oh, you’re enough to make one tired,” broke in Dave Darrin, in deep disgust.  “You thought of Dick Prescott when you put up the job to have him arrested as a burglar, didn’t you?”

“Why, what do you mean?  I didn’t do anything to Dick Prescott,” shouted Drayne angrily, or affecting to be angry.

“Tell that to the marines,” quoth Darrin contemptuously.  “It was through following on your trail, Drayne, that I discovered the whole trick, and also knew just where to take the police to find you.”

An hour later Chief Simmons was well satisfied that he had laid the burglar scare in Gridley.

Not that the new chief had had so very much to do with the result, either.

The first move had been to get back to the Kahn store, where Dick Prescott was promptly freed, with the chief’s hearty apologies.

Over at the police station, by separating Drayne from his accomplice, Bill Stevens, the junkman, and questioning each separately, the whole story had come out, chiefly through frenzied confessions.

Phin Drayne, loafing about town, and with his pocket money nearly cut off by his father, had formed the acquaintance of Stevens, who, besides being a junkman, was a very fair locksmith, though about the latter trade he had never bragged publicly.

Drayne had been ripe for any move that would place him in more funds.  So, first of all, he and Stevens had entered the commercial establishment of Drayne, senior.  There, thanks to Phin’s knowledge of the premises, they had made a very good-sized “haul.”

After that the pair had operated together frequently.  Stevens’ junk shop had offered a handy pace in which to hide the plunder.

Then, as time went on, and Phin heard, by chance, that Dick and Dave were trying to catch the burglars in behalf of “The Blade,”, a plan had occurred to Phin by which he might ruin Dick utterly in the eyes of the community.

The whole plan had been carefully laid by Stevens and young Drayne.

On this night, just after Conklin’s drug store had been closed for the night, Stevens had slipped in a key that had opened a side door for him.  Then the door was left closed but unlocked.  At that hour of the night no one was likely to notice anyone who went in or out at the side door.  And Conklin’s was equipped with a public telephone.