“You had better go quietly. If you resist it will be all the worse for you. I am a detective.”
“What do I care for that? You don’t suppose that I am in fear of a detective.”
“You had better go quietly. If you are innocent, you have your remedy; but once more I have to inform you that you will have to go with me.”
“Upon my word, sir, I am astounded at your impudence. Arrested, and for what, I pray?”
“I have already told you. For obtaining money under false pretences—for forgery. Come, Mr. Sutherland, don’t attempt to deceive me, for that you will find to be hopeless. I have a warrant for your apprehension. You are my prisoner.”
“Prisoner be hanged. If you attempt to molest me I’ll give you the soundest thrashing you ever had in your life.”
The detective made no reply, he only smiled.
Sutherland rushed past him and took to his heels, but the officer gave chase and proved that he was as fleet of foot as the young fugitive, whom he overtook, tripped up, and then seized with a firm grip.
The Dandy by this time was duly impressed with the danger of his position. He struggled most desperately to escape from the clutch of the officer, but found all his efforts unavailing.
“You are a foolish young man,” cried the detective, “and are only making matters worse by this violence, which will not serve your purpose.”