A message was sent to the town constable and he soon appeared. He was a pleasant man by the name of Walters, and he said he would drive us back to Chester at once. He made a search of Mr. Norton’s clothing, and brought forth a carefully wrapped bit of paper, containing his share of the diamonds as they had been divided.
Mr. Norton gave a deep sigh as the constable put the precious stones away where they would be safe; and he had very little to say as he walked away from the depot and got into a wagon that was to take us to Chester.
But on the way he grew more communicative, and entered freely into conversation with the constable.
“Yes,” he said finally. “I might as well own up. I am guilty, and so are three others.”
“And who are the others?” asked Mr. Walters, who knew but little about the case.
“Yates who was caught in Chester; a man named—well, I won’t give you his right name; and this boy here.”
“This boy!” cried the constable.
“I had nothing to do with it,” I put in warmly.
“But he did,” went on Mr. Norton. “Now that he has seen to it that I am caught, I might as well tell the whole story. He had as much to do with it as any one.”
“He doesn’t look like a bad boy,” ventured Mr. Walters.