“I stole it,” I responded; “it was the only thing to do.” While Hinge still stared at me in wordless amazement the outer door was flung open, and the manager appeared, ushering in a policeman.
“This is the man!” he cried.
“Yes,” I answered, “I have not the slightest doubt that I am the man you want. You are an officer of the police?” The man said “Yes,” bustling forward with a brace of handcuffs in his hand. “I claim this money,” I said, laying my hand upon the bag which rested on the table. “There need be no doubt about the matter, officer. I have become illegally possessed of this, but I claim it, and I shall surrender it only to the hands of your inspector. He will keep it until its rightful owner comes to receive it.”
“Lady Rollinson claims it!” cried the manager.
“Lady Rollinson,” I answered, “has no more right to it than I have. This money is the property of Miss Rossano. It must be handed to her, and I have taken it in order that it may be put into the hands of the legal authorities until such time as she appears to claim it.”
“I must trouble you to go with me, sir,” said the officer, advancing with the handcuffs in his hand.
“I will go with you,” I answered, “and I will go quite quietly on one condition: you will take charge of this.”
“You bet I will!” the officer answered, facetiously; and I saw a glance pass between him and the manager which said “madman,” as plainly as the spoken word itself.
I had done too much already to permit myself to be foiled at the end. I took the bag of money in both hands, and held out my wrists towards the officer.
“You will handcuff me,” I said, “if you think that necessary. I shall submit to anything which you conceive to be within the limits of your duty. But I shall not part with this until I meet your inspector.”