"You can't arrest without a warrant on such a charge," declared the house detective, suddenly taking up cudgels for John Ryder. "Oh, I'll hold him all right. He's been stealing----" "Who makes the complaint?" asked the culprit mildly. "Of course, old fellow, I'm sorry you obliged me to hit you. If anything I can do will salve your lacerated feelings----?" He drew out his wallet. "You stole that coal," growled the man, his eyes glittering, however, when he saw the money Ryder carried. "Oh, all right! If you insist," said John Ryder. "But who is the complainant in the case?" "Why, the railroad, I s'pose." "That is what you _suppose_," said the culprit. "Now, let me tell you what I know. The railroad was merely the carrier. It did not own the coal. The railroad was neither consignor nor consignee." "Then the coal company will prosecute." "No, they won't. They ship at consignee's risk. If anybody moves in the matter it will be the actual, legal owner of the coal. In other words, the Lossing Soap Company." "What does it matter?" demanded the deputy with some heat. "Somebody will prosecute. You can't get out of that." "Maybe. Just wait a moment, Mr. Sheriff. I happen to have a letter here from the Lossing Soap Company. It's on a private matter; but I'll show you the letter-head. Here, just read that aloud," and he tore off the printed heading of the letter and handed it to the officer. "'Lossing Soap Company, Capitalization----'" "Never mind that," interposed Ryder. "'Rated----'" "Skip that. Who's the president?" "Why--er---- My goodness gracious!" gasped the deputy. "The--the president of the company is--is Mr. John Ryder." "That's right," said Ryder quietly. "John Ryder. There is only one of us, and that's me. I may be a fool--as Miss Solomons here says I am--but I'm not fool enough to prosecute myself for stealing my own coal. You can go back and report, Mr. Deputy, to your superior; and when you find out how much you think that sore jaw is worth, let me know. We'll be able to settle it out of court." He walked on to enter a boat that had come to transfer him across the inlet. Miss Solomons looked after him, and then at the deputy. Scorn made her voice fairly tremble as she viewed the abashed officer up and down his length. "Huh!" he emitted, and stopped unable to go on, and even, seemingly, to close his mouth. "Good-_night!_" muttered the house detective, and followed John Ryder into the boat. She kept a discreet silence all the way across the inlet and as they walked up the path to the Pinewood Inn. There Ryder went immediately to the desk, to be hailed joyfully by George. "Well, if we aren't all glad to see you again, Mr. Ryder!" exclaimed the clerk. "The guests are going to give you a testimonial banquet soon's it can be arranged." "Good heavens, George! can't you get me out of that? Why--why! it's preposterous! Man alive! you've got to nip that!"