“Arrest me!” It was too dark to see the astonishment that spread over Jagger’s face; but it revealed itself in his voice. “We’ve seen what you haven’t,” the detective proceeded quickly. “You haven’t been the only star on the stage. Inman’s been and caught you at the game; and it’s easy to guess what he hurried away for.” “But why should he arrest me?” pursued Jagger, who had not anticipated any such untoward result of the enterprise. “I should hand t’ bag straight over to Stalker!” “He’ll arrest you for having stolen property in your possession,” returned the officer, “and you’ll have to go down to Keepton; but you needn’t worry; you’ll have a front seat for the play, that’s all.” Something in the detective’s tone raised Jagger’s spirits and he inquired more cheerfully: “Then I’m to get away by myself, am I? What about father?” “Your father’ll keep with me. Otherwise Stalker would arrest you both, as it would be his duty to do. If you don’t meet him you must follow your own course; but let me see you stirring, or the other fellows will be here, if I’m not mistaken.” A grim smile was on Jagger’s face now, and he moved away briskly, carrying the bag in his hand. “He’s not likely to show fight under provocation, is he?” the detective asked Maniwel, as they followed slowly a minute or two later. “I should imagine he might be a bit of a bruiser, and it would be a pity to give Stalker an excuse for putting the bracelets on him.” “Twelve months since I wouldn’t ha’ answered for him,” the father replied; “but he’ll keep himself in now, you’ll see. What’ll you do wi’ Inman?” “Leave that to me!” was the significant answer. * * * * * Before Inman found Stalker he had so rehearsed and perfected his story that all apprehension of evil to himself had been dismissed from his mind, which was possessed with a fierce joy. It was worth the loss of the money to have Jagger shut up in prison and branded as a thief; it was a price he would willingly have pledged himself to pay at any time. From the moment he had set foot in the village on his return from Hull he had done his best to throw suspicion on his rival, and in all his consultations with Stalker he had taken care to keep the suggestion alive. The oil of flattery, applied with featherlike delicacy of touch, had made the slow-moving constable quick to discover guilt in actions and circumstances that could have had no relation to the crime apart from Inman’s cunning inventiveness; and he had allowed himself to be persuaded that time and patience would give him his prisoner. The only cloud on his satisfaction, therefore, when Inman found him and hurried him along the Gordale Road was that the glory of having tracked the criminal should belong not to him but to his patron.