“What have you to say to this?”
“That it is a lie. This man wants to punish me for calling in the police.”
“You’re lyin’, John Timmins, and you know it. Your father’ll whack you for this.”
“Bring him here and let him claim me if he dare!” said Victor angrily.
“Who is your father? Is his name Timmins?”
“No, sir. My father is Bradley Wentworth, of Seneca, Illinois.”
“We have an officer here who came from Seneca. He will tell us whether your statement is correct. Ah, here he is! Hilton, come here.”
A stout, pleasant-faced policeman entered the station house.
“Well, sir,” he responded, touching his cap.
“Look at this boy and tell me if you recognize him.”