“Now don’t go turning on the sympathy,” growled the sergeant.  “I don’t care whether the boy is guilty or not.  All I know is that we have got to make a case against him.  It would never do to have it said that two sharpers could rob a countryman in broad daylight in our precinct.  Haven’t our reports to headquarters said, and haven’t the papers said, that our precinct has been free from all such crimes for more than six months, and this is one of the rawest swindles that has been worked for a long time.  So you two get busy and fix up your case if you want to stay in this precinct.  If you don’t, I’ll tell the captain and the inspector, and you will be sorry.”

Without response, the two officers, who believed in Bob’s innocence, turned on their heels, and started toward the door of the police station.

“Hey, you two!  Go down to the court.  I am going to send this boy right down, and mind you remember what I told you,” shouted the sergeant.  And, suiting his action to his words, he gave orders for Bob to be brought from his cell and taken to the police court.

Just as Bob appeared in the outer room of the station house, Foster entered.

As he saw the boy whose cause he had espoused, the reporter exclaimed: 

“So you have decided to release him, have you, sergeant?”

“Release nothing,” growled the official.  “He’s on his way to court,” and then, as he had read from the expression on Foster’s face that his mission to interview Len Dardus had not been altogether satisfactory, he continued:  “You found I was pretty near right about old Dardus, didn’t you?”

“He surely isn’t a very agreeable person,” answered the reporter, “and I quite agree with you that if there was money enough in the undertaking, he would never stop to question whether or not it was against the law.  But I tell you one thing, sergeant, you are dead wrong about the boy.  The old man actually hates him.”

“Then it would be an easy way for him to get rid of the kid by getting him into just this kind of a mess.”

“Maybe you’re right,” assented Foster, as this theory was announced, “still I don’t believe you are.  I am more convinced than ever that the boy had nothing to do with the swindle, and I don’t think old Dardus did, either.”

“Well, it won’t help matters to keep arguing about it here.  We’ll let the judge decide.  McCarty, call a patrol wagon, and take the kid to court.”

“Oh, I say! you are surely not going to make that kid ride in the patrol wagon?” protested one of the other newspaper men.  “That would be rubbing it in too hard.”

Emphatically the others added their protest, and in the face of such opposition, the sergeant countermanded his order for the police wagon, and instead instructed Patrolman McCarty to take the boy to court, which was less than two blocks away.

Surrounded by the reporters, Bob and the patrolman walked down the street, closely followed by the countryman, whose desire to make money without working for it had led to the loss of the seven hundred and fifty dollars.