“I spoke plainly enough,” said Anson, smiling pleasantly.
“Yes, you spoke plainly enough,” said the superintendent; “but it’s nothing to laugh at, sir.”
“Why, it’s enough to make a cat laugh. Well, I wish you better luck,” said Anson, “and if you do catch up to Oliver West I hope you’ll slip the handcuffs on him at once and make him part with his smuggled swag.”
“You may trust me for that,” said the superintendent grimly.
“I shall,” said Anson, smiling broadly. “Glad you came after me, so that I could put you on the right track.”
“So am I,” said the police officer, with a peculiar look.
“And I’m sorry I cut up so rough,” continued Anson, smiling, as he apologised; “but you know, it isn’t nice to be stopped and overhauled as I have been.”
“Of course it isn’t,” said the officer drily; “but in my profession one can’t afford to study people’s feelings.”
“No, no, of course not. But don’t apologise.”
“I was not going to,” said the superintendent; “I’m sorry, though, to find out that West is such a scamp. Why, Ingleborough must be as bad.”