“Let me see the man at once,” urged Frank. “His charge is utterly unfounded. I am not in business to defraud people, but to make regular customers of them.”
“We all know that, Newton,” said the marshal in a kindly tone.
Frank readily accompanied the marshal. When they reached the police station he was taken down stairs into the lock-up.
“Hi, let me out of here, will you?” demanded his recent visitor, noisily jangling the door of his cell.
“Keep quiet, you,” ordered the marshal. “Here’s the young man who runs the mail order business here in Pleasantville.”
“Oh, is it,” cried the prisoner, with a savage stare at Frank. “Let me out, officer. I want about two minutes chance at the miserable swindler.”
“It will pay you to act with some reason,” warned the marshal. “Now then, you made the charge to me that you had been swindled.”
“Outrageously,” cried the prisoner.
“Give us the details. Young Newton has the confidence of everybody in Pleasantville, and we don’t believe he would do a dishonest act.”