“What!” roared Phelan, and Travers Gladwin joined him in the exclamation.
“Will you swear that man gave you this bill?” cut in the thief, sharply, snatching out a pencil and marking the gold certificate across the corner.
“I will, sorr!” shouted Phelan. “I will, an’–––”
“Very well! Now you see this mark in the corner––will you be able to identify it?”
“Yes, sorr.” Phelan was fairly grovelling.
“Good,” said the thief, and nonchalantly shoved the bill into his waistcoat pocket.
“See here, Phelan,” protested Gladwin.
“Kape your mouth shut––I’d just like to take wan punch at yez.”
Phelan meant it and took a step toward Gladwin when the thief stopped him and asked: