Chester stopped abruptly and looked amazed.
“Why, the man must be crazy! What on earth makes him think I would stoop to do such a thing?”
“’Cause your handkerchief was found on a flour barrel ’side of the money drawer.”
“My handkerchief! Who says it was my handkerchief?”
“Your name was on it—in one corner; I seed it myself.”
Then a light dawned upon Chester. The tramp whom he and his mother had entertained the evening before, must have picked up his handkerchief, and left it in the store to divert suspicion from himself. The detective instinct was born within Chester, and now he felt impatient to have the investigation proceed.
“Come on, Abel,” he said, “I want to see about this matter.”
“Well, you needn’t walk so plaguy fast, wouldn’t if I was you.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause you’ll probably have to go to jail. I’ll tell you what I’d do.”