"I will not," answered Robert firmly. "I know you, and I am going to hand you over to the police."
At these words Mrs. Gibbs uttered a little shriek.
"Oh, Mr. Frost, what can this mean?" she demanded.
"It means that this man is a thief," declared Robert. "I met him in the post-office yesterday, where he saw me cash several money orders. After that he and a confederate robbed me of both money and my watch."
At these words the face of Andy Cross—for it was really he—became a study.
The sharper had not dared to go back to his former boarding house. He had calculated to find some new victim and to keep "shady" by pretending to be too ill to leave his room for several days. Now his little game was knocked completely in the head.
"He is a thief?" ejaculated the landlady. "Oh, my! and to think I was going to take him in to board!"
And the good old lady appeared ready to faint.
"There is some strange mistake here," said Andy Cross. "Young man, how dare you call me a thief!"
"I dare to because it is the truth."