“No,” answered Bolton. “Dodger was always very regular about comin’ home.”
“Then something must have happened to him,” said Florence, anxiously.
“He might have got run in,” suggested the apple-woman. “Some of them cops is mighty officious.”
“Dodger would never do anything to deserve arrest,” Florence said, quickly.
“Thrue for you, Florence, but some innersent parties are nabbed. I know of one young man who was standin’ on a strate corner waitin’ for the cars, when a cop came up and arristed him for disorderly conduct.”
“But that is shameful!” said Florence, indignantly.
“Thrue for you, my dear. We might go round to the police headquarters and inquire if the boy’s been run in.”
“What do you think, Mr. Bolton?” asked Florence.
Tim Bolton seemed busy thinking. Finally he brought down his hand forcibly on the bar, and said: “I begin to see through it.”
Florence did not speak, but she fixed an eager look of inquiry on the face of the saloon-keeper.