“Hold us?” repeated Alex and Case in a breath.
“It’s just this way,” the merchant went on, “this man here is constable in this township. It was him I was giving the dig to a little while ago about the officers not being ready to take action.”
The officer turned back the lapel of his coat and ostentatiously displayed a brass badge.
“Yes,” he said, “I’m constable of this township, and old Bill, here, never gets tired of telling folks that the officers ain’t no account.”
The two men roared lustily, pounding each other on the shoulders, evidently regarding the whole affair as a good joke.
“Come,” Alex said, “will you sell me some spark plugs?”
“You can’t buy nothin’ just now,” the constable declared. “You’re both under arrest!”
“What for?” asked Case.
“We think,” the constable replied, “that the pirates sent you here to look over the town and see what they could get. That’s too thin, your talking about spark plugs. Why, every boat carries a lot of them.”
“If this man is a constable,” urged Alex, “why don’t he hasten over to the other side of the bend and find out what that shooting is about?”