“Don’t?” flared up the prisoner. “Why, I’ve got the proofs. I got a circular a few days ago, saying that I had been selected as the man in Westboro to receive a full-size hunting-case watch and chain, cut shown, for eleven dollars, provided I would show it to my neighbors and advise them to buy.”
“Never sent out such a circular,” asserted Frank.
“I sent the money. The watch came yesterday evening. It was a five-cent toy watch, tin cases, paper face, no works.”
“Where is the circular you speak of?” asked Frank.
“I left it at home. It was from the United States Mail Order House, Pleasantville—”
“Oh,” interrupted Frank with sudden enlightenment. Then, turning to the marshal, he added: “This man probably tells the strict truth, but my business advertises only as ‘Frank’s Mail Order House.’”
“Then there’s two in Pleasantville?” demanded the prisoner.
“I think so, yes,” answered Frank. “I shall soon find out. At any rate, you have made a mistake in charging me with this swindle. You have damaged my office, and you must pay for it.”
“Son,” eagerly ejaculated the prisoner, pressing his face close to the iron bars of his cell door, “you find me the right swindler, and give me a brief interview with him, and I’ll pay your bill twice over.”