Cron and his confederates sullenly obeyed.
"What is the meaning of this outrage?" Cron asked with a show of indignation. "Do you realize who I am?"
"Maybe we'll be more sure of it after you've been finger-printed and mugged," the policeman retorted. "Keep your hands up."
"What's the charge against us?" Lynch questioned, with studied indifference, seating himself on the bed. It was not the first time he had ever been arrested. He frequently boasted that no jail would ever claim him.
"You're wanted on two counts," the policeman informed. "For theft of a pearl necklace belonging to Mrs. Dillon, and for stealing a valuable painting from the Gage Galleries."
"Anything else?" Cron inquired sarcastically.
"Yes, several other things, but I'll let the judge tell you about it."
"It takes evidence to make an arrest," Lynch said sneeringly. "Produce your proof."
"I'll introduce you to our star witness," the policeman retorted.
He crossed to the door and unlocked it. Penny Nichols and six policemen entered.