“Oh, just up here,” replied Jerry, in non-committal tones.
“Well, you’ll have to keep out. I got orders not to allow any strangers in there, and—why hello! If it isn’t the motor boys from Cresville! Why, how are you?” and the man, evidently a watchman, or a policeman in plain clothes, extended his hand toward Jerry, a smile illuminating his face. “How’d you come here?” went on the man.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Thompson!” exclaimed Jerry in amazement. “How in the world did you get here?”
“Sort of a mutual surprise party,” murmured Ned. “Hello, Mr. Thompson.”
“All three of you, eh?” went on the guard. “Jerry, Ned and Bob. Well, I’m glad to see you,” and he shook hands with each of them in turn. Mr. Thompson had lived in Cresville for many years and had done some work for Mrs. Hopkins at odd times. The boys knew him very well, but of late years had not seen him, for he had moved away from their town.
“How comes it that you are here?” asked Jerry. “Do you work in the bank?”
“No, I’m one of the Harmolet police force. I’ve been on about two years now. I knocked about the country after leaving Cresville, and finally settled down here. I’m a regular officer now, and if I catch you boys cutting up I’ll run you in!” and the man laughed at his joke.
“Where’s your uniform?” asked Bob.
“Didn’t have time to put it on. Soon as this robbery was discovered the chief sent for all the reserve men. I was home sleeping, after my night on duty, but I had to get up. We’ve got all the men we can spare on this job.”