“I say it isn’t true,” I replied.  “This man is a humbug.  He is following me for a purpose, and is trying to get me into trouble.”

“Ridiculous!” cried my accuser.  “Why, I never heard of such a thing before!”

“That story won’t wash,” said the officer to me.  “Do you make a charge?” he continued to Mr. Allen Price.

My accuser hesitated.  “I will, if it is not necessary for me to go along,” he said.  “I am pressed for time.  My name is Sylvester Manners.  I am a partner in the Manners Clothing Company.  You know the firm, I presume.”

“Oh, yes, sir,” replied the officer.  He knew the Manners Clothing Company to be a rich concern.

“I will stop at the station house to-morrow morning and make a complaint,” continued Mr. Allen Price.  “Don’t let the young rascal escape.”

“No fear, sir.  Come on!” the last to me.

“I’ve done no wrong.  I want that man arrested!” I cried.  “He is no more a merchant here in Chicago than I am.  He—­”

But the officer would not listen.  He took a strong hold upon my collar and began to march me off.  Mr. Allen Price walked beside us until we reached the corner.

“I will leave you here, officer,” he said.  “I’ll be down in the morning, sure.  As for you,” he continued to me, “I trust you will soon see the error of your ways and try to mend them, and—­” he continued in a whisper, as the officer’s attention was distracted for a moment, “never try to outwit John Stumpy again!”

CHAPTER XXV

 An exciting adventure

Mr. Allen Price and John Stumpy were one and the same person!  For a moment so great was my surprise that I forgot I was under arrest, and walked on beside the officer without a protest.

Now that I knew the truth it was easy to trace the resemblance, and I blamed myself greatly for not having discovered it when we first met.

Of a certainty the man was bent upon frustrating my plans, partly for his own safety, and more so upon Mr. Aaron Woodward’s account.  No doubt the merchant was paying him well for his work, and John Stumpy intended to do all he could to crush me.

But I was not to be crushed.  The forces brought against me only made my will stronger to go ahead.  It was do or die, and that was all there was to it.

I could easily understand why John Stumpy wished to obtain possession of my handbag.  In it he hoped to find the papers Mr. Woodward had lost and Nicholas Weaver’s confession.  I could not help but smile at the thought that, notwithstanding all I had said to the contrary, the two plotters still believed I had the lost documents.

One thing perplexed me.  Why was my visit to Chris Holtzmann considered of such importance that every possible means was taken to prevent it?  Did this man possess the entire key to the situation?  And were they afraid he could be bought up or threatened into a confession?  It looked so.