"No, sir," he answered with a smile. "A case of mistaken identity. My name is Jones." Then, continuing his speech to Patsy Doyle, he said: "There is no need to consider the acoustic properties of our theatres, for the architect—"
"Pardon me again," interrupted the man, more sternly. "I am positive this is not a case of mistaken identity. We have ample proof that Jack Andrews is parading here, under the alias of 'A. Jones.'"
The boy regarded him with a puzzled expression.
"What insolence!" muttered Beth in an under-tone but audible enough to be distinctly heard.
The man flushed slightly and glanced at Le Drieux, who nodded his head.
Then he continued firmly:
"In any event, sir, I have a warrant for your arrest, and I hope you will come with me quietly and so avoid a scene."
The boy grew pale and then red. His eyes narrowed as he stared fixedly at the officer. But he did not change his position, nor did he betray either fear or agitation. In a voice quite unmoved he asked:
"On what charge do you arrest me?"
"You are charged with stealing a valuable collection of pearls from the
Countess Ahmberg, at Vienna, about a year ago."
"But I have never been in Vienna."