“You don’t do anything. We do what is to be done. You just come along.”
“We take you into custody,” interposed Clarence.
“Lock you up!” exploded Dickie once more. “And a good job.”
“Lock me up?” Bob gazed at them, bewildered. Had the temperamental little thing “peached,” after all? Impossible! And yet if she hadn’t, how could Dan and Dickie and Clarence know he was a burglar—or rather, that a combination of unlucky circumstances made him seem one? Perhaps that kiss was a signal for them to step forward and take him. History was full of such kisses. And yet he would have sworn she was not that kind.
“You’re to come along without making a fuss,” said the commodore significantly.
“But I don’t want to come along. This is going too far,” remonstrated Bob. “I’ve a decided objection to being locked up as a burglar.”
“Burglar!” exclaimed Dan.
“Don’t know how you found out! Appearances may be against me, but,” stopping in the road, “if you want me to go along, you’ve got to make me.”
The trio looked at one another. “Maybe, he really is—” suggested Dickie, touching his forehead.
“Too much truth!” said Clarence with a sneer. “Feel half that way, myself!”