“I’m a ’spectable man,” hiccoughed the tramp. “I’m an honest man. I ain’t done nothin’.”
“Why did you take my handkerchief last night?” asked Chester.
The tramp laughed.
“Good joke, wasn’t it? So they’d think it was you.”
“It came near being a bad joke for me. Do you think I robbed your store now, Mr. Tripp?”
To this question Silas Tripp did not find it convenient to make an answer. He was one of those men—very numerous they are, too—who dislike to own themselves mistaken.
“It seems to me, Mr. Tripp,” said the minister, “that you owe an apology to our young friend here for your false suspicions.”
“Anybody’d suspect him when they found his handkerchief,” growled Silas.
“But now you know he was not concerned in the robbery you should make reparation.”
“I don’t know where he got his money,” said Silas. “There’s suthin’ very mysterious about that five-dollar bill.”