Conduct of life -- Fiction; Railroads -- Fiction; Swindlers and swindling -- Fiction
"Certainly not. I never saw it before in my life."
"Is this shirt yours?"
"Yes."
"You brought it with you?"
"Yes."
"Let me open the watch. Do you see this inscription?"
Fred and the clerk approached, and on the inside of the case read the
name, "Philo Carver, Elmira, 1865."
"You see? This is one of the articles stolen from Mr. Carver's house
yesterday afternoon. It is a little odd that this young man in whose
bundle I find it cannot explain its presence."
"You may believe me or not," said Fred desperately, "but it is true all
the same. I know nothing of this watch or chain, and I never saw either
before. Can you tell me what other articles were taken by the burglar?"
"Some government bonds, and a small sum of bank bills."
"Then you had better search for them also here: I will help you all I
can."
"Well, you are a cool hand."
"No; I am innocent, that is all."
"It is pretty clear you have nothing else with you, or you wouldn't be
so willing. However, I consider it my duty to do as you suggest."
He hunted under the mattresses, and finally examined Fred's pockets. At
last he felt in the inside vest pocket and drew out the gold coins.
"Ha, we have something here!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," answered Fred, "but those happen to belong to me."
"Where did you get them?"
"From a friend in New York. He intrusted them to me to use if I needed.
Meanwhile I was to put them in the savings bank."
"Not a very likely story," said the detective suspiciously.
"Likely or not, it is a true story. Does this man Carver claim to have
lost any gold coins?"
"No."
"I thought not."
"However, we come back to the inquiry--where did you get the watch?"
"The man who slept in the room with me must have left it here to throw
suspicion on me," said Fred, with sudden inspiration.
"That is possible," said the clerk, who was favorably impressed by
Fred's manner.
"We must not jump at conclusions," said the detective warily. "I shall
feel justified in detaining the boy after what I have found."
"You won't take me to the station house?" said Fred nervously.
"No; it will answer the purpose if you are locked up in this room--for
the present."
"Then," said Fred, turning to the clerk, "I shall be much obliged if
you will send me up some breakfast."
"It shall be done."
Within half an hour Fred was discussing a beefsteak and fried potatoes
with hearty enjoyment. It takes a good deal to spoil the appetite of a
healthy boy of seventeen.
CHAPTER XII.
FRED AS A PRISONER.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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