For half a minute there rests on the assembly a silence that can be felt. Then there bursts a roar of indignation from fifty throats. In a moment the constables have closed round their prisoner, and with drawn revolvers they stand ready to resist interference.
Not many of “the toffs” are armed, but such as are quickly draw their weapons, and it only needs a single shot to start a fight which must end disastrously for the Law, when Scarlett’s voice rings out, “Stand back, you fellows! For God’s sake, don’t fire! This thing is a mistake which will be more quickly cleared up before a Magistrate than by bloodshed.”
Expostulating, but obedient to his wish, his friends one by one lower their weapons.
“I know nothing of a mistake,” says the Sergeant, as he takes a piece of paper from his pocket. “But here’s the warrant, which any gentleman present is at liberty to see. We are but carrying out our duty.”
The handcuffs are now on Scarlett’s wrists, and his captors lead him slowly through the crowded room.
“Let me speak.” Filled with emotion which he can hardly suppress, Jack’s voice almost seems to choke him. “Let me speak before you take me away.”
“Not a word,” retorts the Sergeant. “You shall say all you want to the Magistrate.”
“Men,” cries Scarlett, as he is hustled through the door, “I am innocent, I swear.” But he has no time to say more. He is hurried down the steps; he is quickly placed on a spare horse; the constables spring into their saddles, and ere the great concourse of diggers can grasp what is happening, Jack is conducted at a trot through the town of canvas, along the track which leads to Timber Town, and is soon out of sight.