So the two of us left the gorgeous ball-room. Every one moved aside for us, and quickly, too, as if we had had the plague. I looked in vain for Hamilton. He was a friend in need. We were taken into the steward's office and the door was shut and locked. The band in the ball-room went galloping through a two-step, and the gaiety was in full swing again. The thief had been rounded up! How the deuce was it going to end?
"I can not tell you how sorry I am to have mixed you up in this," I said to the girl.
"You are in no manner to blame. Think of what might have happened had you blown up the post-office!"
She certainly was the least embarrassed of the two of us. I addressed my next remarks to the great Haggerty.
"Did you find a suitable pistol in Friard's?"
"A man in my business," said Haggerty mildly, "is often found in such places. There are various things to be recovered in pawnshops. The gentlemen of this club sent me the original ten of hearts, my presence being necessary at such big entertainments. And when I saw that card of yours, I was so happy that I nearly put you on your guard. Lord, how long I've been looking for you! I give you credit for being a clever rascal. You have fooled us all nicely. Not a soul among us knew your name, nor what you looked like. And but for that card, you might still be at large. Until the lady submits to the simple process of identification, I shall be compelled to look upon her and treat her as an accomplice. She has refused the offer I have made her, and she can not blame me if I am suspicious, when to be suspicious is a part of my business." He was reasonable enough in regard to the girl.
He turned to the chief of the village police, who was sitting at the desk ordinarily used by the club's steward.
"No reporters, mind you."
"Yes, sir. We'll see that no reporter gets wind of the capture."
The telephone bell rang. One of the police answered it.