“Jerry Upton,” he repeated, slowly.
“Yes. What have you done with my money?”
“Ain’t got a dollar of your money.”
“If you haven’t, you’ve drank it up,” Jerry ejaculated. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“Zat’s all right, m’boy, all right, I assure you. Come on and have a good time with me.”
With great difficulty Wakefield Smith arose to his feet and staggered towards the house he had been on the point of entering. Jerry pulled him back and held him. As our hero did this he saw Smith drop a ten-dollar bill. Jerry picked it up.
“You are not going in there—you are going with me.”
“Where to?”
“To the nearest station house.”
The pickpocket gave a hiccough and a cry of alarm that was very much like a whine.