“Right away. He came this morning, you know. Perhaps he’s goin’ to promote you; make you Chief of Police or Grand Marshal. The governor can do anything, Sam.”
Sam shook his head. He rocked to and fro, thinking deeply and dreading the governor with a cowardly sinking of the heart.
“Well, what are you going to do? Mutiny?” asked Don impatiently.
The constable sighed. Then he rose and picked up his hat, walking slowly in the wake of his eager conductor to face the man he most feared.
“Good morning, Parsons. I know you well,” said the governor. “You’re an honest man and a good officer. Who took Mrs. Ritchie’s box from Judge Ferguson’s office?”
“Who stole the box?” more sternly.
“Sir, a—a——”
“Parsons!”
“Hazel Chandler, sir.”