"If you are an officer I wish you had happened along a couple of days ago," said Tad. "We had a lot of trouble with an imitation bad man, Smoky Griffin. Know him?"
"No. I'm not that kind of an officer."
"He's a corporal in the Home Guards," guessed Chunky.
"My man," broke in Professor Zepplin, with extreme dignity, "will you be good enough to explain just what your business is?"
"Yes. I'm a government officer, and I've come to give you notice to quit, and right smart at that. It's your move, and you'll have to get up and dust out of these parts. If you don't, I'll lock you up in jail, to start with. Then, after you've waited a few months for the court to sit, you'll find that you have worse medicine to take. Is that plain enough?"
"I—I don't understand your attitude," stammered Professor Zepplin.
"Mebby this will mean something to you," said the newcomer, holding up a furry object.
"What is it?"
"Looks like the paw of the black cat that I dreamed I saw chasing the three-legged rat through the field of red clover," declared Stacy.
Tad motioned to the fat boy to be silent.