“Are you a-holding him, Jackson?” went on Isaac Marvelling anxiously. “Look out, or he may slip away from you.”
“I’ve got him, right enough,” returned Jackson, one of the local constables. “He’ll have hard work to get away.”
“What does this mean?” demanded the young auctioneer, aroused at last to the necessity of doing something in his own behalf. “Let go of me!”
“Oh, no, not just yet!” returned Jackson. “You’re wanted, and you know it.”
“That’s right, Jackson, don’t let him slip you!” put in Marvelling eagerly. “He’s a good talker, but don’t let that count with you.”
“Will you tell me what I am wanted for?” asked Matt.
“For entering his store and stealing a lot of cutlery and jewelry,” returned the constable.
“Forty-five dollars’ worth,” added Marvelling. “And all new stock, too! Oh, you thought you would get away with it mighty smart-like, didn’t you?” he sneered.
“I haven’t been near your store, and I know nothing about the theft,” was Matt’s steady reply.