"He is Mr. Nicholas Waterbury, of Marietta. He is now at the Burnet House."
"That's all gammon!" said the officer roughly. "Come along. I can't wait here all day."
"Don't be in a hurry, officer," said the quiet man. "I know Mr. Waterbury, and I believe the boy's story is correct."
"It ain't any of your business!" said the officer insolently. "The boy's a thief, and I'm goin' to lock him up."
"Look out, sir!" said the quiet man sternly. "You are overstepping the limits of your duty, and asserting what you have no possible means of knowing. There is reason to believe that this man"—pointing out Vincent—"is the real thief. I call upon you to arrest him."
"I don't receive no orders from you, sir," said the policeman. "I'm more likely to take you along."
"That's right, officer," said Vincent approvingly. "The man is interfering with you in the exercise of your duty. You have a perfect right to arrest him."
"I have a great mind to," said the officer, who was one of the many who are puffed up by a little brief authority, and lose no opportunity of exercising it.
The quiet man did not seem in the least alarmed. He smiled, and said, "Perhaps, officer, it might be well for you to inquire my name, before proceeding to arrest me."
"Who are you?" demanded the officer insolently.