“Well done, Sam!” exclaimed Mrs. Harris.
“Take your hands off!” demanded Rutley, who began to scuffle violently with Sam.
“Hold him fast, Sam,” cheerfully encouraged Mr. Harris, who rushed to Sam’s assistance, followed by Smith.
“I guess so.”
At that moment, by a dexterous movement, Rutley slipped out of his coat, swiftly turned, and exclaimed:
“Damn your eyes, take that,” and violently struck at Sam, who adroitly dodged the blow, dropped the coat and squared up to him.
“I’m your huckleberry; I guess. Good time to square that little run-down now. Come down the hill out of the sight of the ladies.”
“I’ll go wid yees,” volunteered Smith. “Sure, an’ I’ll see fair play, an’ may the divvil take me lord.”
Mr. Harris picked up Rutley’s coat and there fell out of one of the pockets two packages of banknotes. He let the coat fall and picked up the packages. Flourishing them about his head, he laughed—“Ha, ha, ha, ha.”
The detective turned to Jack and said, quietly: “You wanted the proof: there it is,” and he pointed to the money held by Mr. Harris. “He will be pinched, but Mr. Thorpe is to secure his release.”