“Now walk up to those people, and stop!” they could hear John command. “And don’t move too fast! Keep your hands up!”
The man did as he was ordered. As the strange procession came towards them they had ample time to look it over. First there came the one with upraised hands. He had a black moustache, and wore a felt hat pulled down over his eyes, and a light check suit. Next came John, with a revolver in his hand, a look of grim determination on his face. At his side walked a well-dressed, good-looking man of middle-age, obviously a gentleman.
When John’s prisoner saw Anna’s father, he came to a stand and greeted him.
“Hello, Pop! I thought I’d stop and see how you were getting along!” he blustered, with a grin.
“Hello, yourself, Tim Kelley!” called the officer in plain clothes. “What’s that you have in your hand?”
The other turned pale, and looked hard at his questioner.
“Just a few personal belongin’s,” he muttered. “What’s that to you?”
“I’ll have a look at your ‘personal belongin’s,’ if you please!” answered the officer, turning the lapel of his coat and displaying a shining badge. “Come on Tim, hand it over! I know you—and a good deal more about you than you think!”
And he walked up to him and took the package from his hand.
“Now you can put your hands up again!” he added. “You’ll be well taken care of.”