"Not so fast, Mr. Denton," he said, in a tone different from his former one. "You've made a little mistake."
"Let go, then!" said Denton. "I am going to get out."
"No, you are not. You are going back to Chicago as my prisoner."
"Who are you?" demanded Denton, startled.
The red-headed man laughed.
"I am Pierce, the detective," he said. "We have long wanted to get hold of you, and I have succeeded at last, thanks to the diamond pin. By the way, the diamond is false—a capital imitation, but not worth over ten dollars. You may as well give it up."
"Is this true?" asked Denton, his face showing his mortification.
"You can rely upon it."
"I'll buy it of you. I'll give you twenty dollars for it."
"Too late, my man. You must go back with me as a prisoner. Suppose we take off our wigs. My hair is no more red than yours."