“I must confess that I did entertain such a suspicion, and for so doing I humbly beg Mr. Blake’s pardon,” replied the sheriff.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if he should prove to be connected with it, after all, for I believe him to be fully capable of such things,” sneered Snyder.
At this cruel remark there arose such a general murmur of indignation, and the expression of Rod’s face became so ominous that the speaker hastened to create a diversion of interest by asking the sheriff what had been done with the valuables recovered from the robber.
“You will please hand them over to me.”
“I shall do nothing of the kind,” retorted the sheriff, as he drew the stout leather bag from its place of security. “I shall hand this bag, with all its contents, to the brave lad who recovered it, and entrust him with its safe delivery to those authorized to receive it.”
So saying, the sheriff handed the bag to Rod.
Snyder turned pale with rage, and snatching an unsealed letter from his pocket, he flung it on the table, exclaiming angrily: “There is my authority for conducting this business and for receiving such of the stolen property as may be recovered. If you fail to honor it I will have you indicted for conspiracy.”
“Indeed!” said the sheriff, contemptuously. “That would certainly be a most interesting proceeding—for you.” Then to Rod, to whom he had already handed the bag, he said: “If you decide to deliver this property to that young man, Mr. Blake, I would advise you to examine carefully the contents of the bag in presence of these witnesses and demand an itemized receipt for them.”
“Thank you, I will,” replied Rod, emptying the contents of the bag on the table as he spoke.