"Oh, come now, you needn't try to tell us
that you--you live here. You're a cracksman, my friend, that's what you
are--"
Ossie tugged at Perry's sleeve, but Perry failed to notice it.
"One look at that face of yours is enough, old top," continued Perry.
"It's got crook written all over it!"
"It has, has it?" gasped the man. "Let me tell you that my name is
Drummond, sir, and that this is my house, and that is my safe, and--and
if you'll mind your own business--"
"What!" asked Perry weakly. "You mean that you--that this--you mean
that--"
"I mean," interrupted the man angrily, "that I was about to deposit some
money in that safe, some money I'd been carrying around in my pocket all
the evening and feared I might lose, when you--you young thugs set on me
and knocked me down! Knocked me down right in my own house, on my own
hearth-rug! Why, you--you--"
Mr. Drummond's wrath got the better of his speech and he only sputtered,
waving an accusing finger at the retreating Perry. Wink was already
glancing about for a means of escape and Ossie was frankly deserting.
"I--I didn't know!" gasped Perry. "I--we saw you come in--and you looked
like--like a--"
"You've said that already!" said the man, "Never mind my criminal looks,
young man!"
"No, sir, we don't--I mean I was mistaken, sir! But, you see, it looked
so--so queer, you coming in like that--"
"Queer! What was queer about it!" demanded Mr.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196