"Likely enough," said Officer O'Keefe, his big figure swinging forward with long strides. "Keep him covered, Tim!"
He planted himself between us with a grin.
"You're 'it' again, Foxy! Jig's up. Will you go quietly?"
It did me good to see how completely the old scoundrel was taken back. His wide distended bleary eyes shifted from O'Keefe to me and back again. It was a perfect surprise.
I motioned to Jenkins to close the door of my friend's bedroom. So far, he had evidently slept serenely through all the trouble, and, if possible, I wanted to avoid arousing him now. For a fat man, Billings had the deuce of a temper when stirred up over anything like an imposition upon him, and it would only add to the confusion for him to appear on the scene and learn about his wallet and his treasured ruby that I had rescued.
Foxy Grandpa's face had been rapidly undergoing a change. From pallor to pink it went; and then from pink to red. Now it was becoming scarlet. He threw his head back and faced me angrily.
"Lightnut, will you tell me what the hell this means?" And his heavy voice thundered.
"Here! Here! That'll be enough o' that," cried Officer O'Keefe sharply. "None of your grand-stand play here, or it'll be the worse for you. And no tricks, Braxton, or—"
He clutched his stick menacingly.
"Braxton!" snorted the old fellow. "Why, you born fool, my name's not Braxton!"