“If Caven and I sold you good stocks we ought to be kicked full of holes,” grumbled Malone.
“That was your lookout, not mine,” returned Maurice Vane. “Mind, I don't say the shares are valuable. But they may be, and if so I shall be satisfied with my bargain.”
“Humph! where do I come in?”
“You don't come in at all—and you don't deserve to.”
“If I didn't swindle you, you can't have me held for swindling.”
“I don't intend to have you held. You can go for all I care.”
Maurice Vane explained the situation to the police authorities and that evening Pat Malone was allowed to go. He threatened to have somebody sued for false imprisonment but the police laughed at him.
“Better not try it on, Malone,” said one officer. “Remember, your picture is in our Rogues' Gallery,” and then the rascal was glad enough to sneak away. The next day he took a train to Baltimore, where, after an hour's hunt, he found Gaff Caven.
“We made a fine mess of things,” he said, bitterly. “A fine mess!”
“What are you talking about, Pat?” asked Caven.