“I haven’t stolen anything from your house, Mr. Savage!”
“Then what did ye come sneakin’ in here fer, like a thief in th’ night?”
“I came after my books, which you refused to let me have. Now that I have them I am going to leave.”
“Ye be, eh? Wa’al, I guess I’ll have suthin’ t’ say about that. Likely story! Come here t’ git a few wuthless books! More like ye come here t’ git th’ money ye heard I drawed out th’ bank!”
“I didn’t know you drew any money out of the bank.”
“Ye’re a thief, Dan Hardy, an’ ye know it!” exclaimed Mrs. Savage. “Catch him, Peter. I’ll hold him while ye’ go over t’ Mr. Lane’s an’ telephone fer th’ constables.”
“I tell you I only came here for my books, and you have no right to molest me,” declared Dan.
“We’ll see how much of that th’ judge will believe,” sneered Mr. Savage. “Ye’d better come along with me, an’ make no trouble.”
“I’ll not come with you.”
Dan formed a sudden resolution. With a quick motion he threw his books from the window. Then he turned and made for it himself. It did not take long to get out on the limb, and, a few seconds later he was climbing down to the ground.