“He was asking questions about you while he was eating his supper.”
Silas Tripp was forced to confess, though reluctantly, that the case against Chester was falling to the ground. But he did not like to give up.
“I’d like to know where Chester got the money he’s been flauntin’ round the last week,” he said.
“Probably he stole it from your store last night,” said the constable, with good-natured sarcasm.
“That ain’t answerin’ the question.”
“I don’t propose to answer the question,” said Chester, firmly. “Where I got my money is no concern of Mr. Tripp, as long as I don’t get it from him.”
“Have I got to lose the money?” asked Silas, in a tragical tone. “It’s very hard on a poor man.”
All present smiled, for Silas was one of the richest men in the village.
“We might take up a contribution for you, Silas,” said the constable, jocosely.
“Oh, it’s all very well for you to joke about it, considerin’ you didn’t lose it.”