“Is it?” asked Mr. Applegate. “Robinson’s just clever enough to think up a trick like that. He’d figure that by appearing to be honest, I’d believe he is honest and couldn’t have committed this robbery. Very clever. But not clever enough. There’s plenty of evidence right this minute to convict him, and I’m not going to delay any further.”
In a moment Mr. Applegate’s voice continued, “Police station? Hello . . . Police station? . . . This is Applegate speaking-Applegate-Hurd Applegate. . . . Well, we’ve found our man in that robbery. . . . Yes, Robinson. . . . You thought so, eh?-So did I, but I wasn’t sure. . . . He has practically convicted himself by his own story. . . . Yes, I want him arrested. . . . You’ll be up right away? . . . Fine. . . . Good-by.”
“You’re not going to have me arrested, Mr. Applegate?” the caretaker cried out in alarm.
“Why not? You’re the thief!”
“It might have been better to wait a while,” Mr. Hardy interposed. “At least until there was more evidence.”
“What more evidence do we want, Mr. Hardy,” the owner of Tower Mansion sneered. “If Robinson wants to return the jewels and securities I’ll have the charge withdrawn-but that’s all.”
“I can’t return them! I didn’t take them!” Mr. Robinson defended himself.
“You’ll have plenty of time to think,” Mr. Applegate declared. “You’ll be in the penitentiary a long time-a long time.”
In the hallway the boys listened in growing excitement and dismay. The case had taken an abrupt and tragic turn. Slim looked as though he might collapse under the strain.
“My dad’s innocent,” the boy muttered over and over again, clenching his fists. “I know he is. They can’t arrest him. He never stole anything in his life!”