From further questionings, and many threats, our detectives found that a number of boys were in the habit of taking stolen goods to this miserable old fence. The number mixed up in the affair Bob did not learn, but he ascertained the fact that Felix Mortimer had often been seen there by this lad.
“Now me and Tom are doin’ the detective business,” said the chief; “and if you want to be a detective with us, you can join right in.”
“I want to go home,” sobbed the boy.
“Well, you can’t, not now,” said Bob, emphatically. “We hain’t got no time for nonsense. You’ve either got to go along with me and Tom, and help us, or we will run you in. Now which will you do?”
The boy yielded to the eloquence of the chief detective, and accompanied him and Tom back to old Gunwagner’s. The boldness of this move captured young Flannery’s admiration.
“Now this is what I call bein’ detectives, Bob,” whispered he. “Gewhittaker, I didn’t think, though, you could do it so grand. I don’t believe nobody could beat you.”
Bob nodded his approval of the compliment, and then addressed himself to the young lad.
“I want you,” said he, “to take me in and say I’m a friend of yours who wants to sell somethin’. You needn’t do nothin’ more. Every detective puts up jobs like this, so ’tain’t tellin’ nothin’ wrong.”
Then, turning to his companion, he added:
“Now, Tom, if this boy ain’t square, and he does anything so I get into Gunwagner’s clutches, and can’t get out, why I want you to go for an officer, and come and arrest this boy and the whole gang.”