The man raised his arms and moved toward them. But he refused to further comply with the command.
“You are wrong—entirely wrong in your thinking,” he said in a crafty voice, a faint smile coming over his face. “You have made a terrible mistake and picked out one who is innocent. I know nothing about any stolen goods.”
“None of your monkey business,” snapped the policeman, advancing toward the man. “We’ve proof of your guilt and want the stuff you stole. Now, get it and get it fast, or I’ll be tempted to pass a .45 through your ribs!”
“But I say,” persisted the alleged thief, raising his voice to a high-pitched drawl, “I know nothing about what you are talking.”
Bob advanced toward him.
“What about those specimens you offered to sell to Mr. Jordan?” the youth demanded, never taking his eyes from the fellow. “Just where did you get them? It didn’t happen that you stole them out of a museum truck, did it?”
“Why, you——I’ll knock you over that fence!”
He moved toward Bob, but soon decided not to carry out his threat.
The policeman became even more impatient.