The faker kept his nerve. He came down from the platform carrying his valise. The crowd was around him.
"Good people, let me pass!" he cried, authoritatively.
Mr. Blackford sensed the danger. The man might get away after all.
"Here!" he called to a constable in the crowd. "That man is a swindler! He should be arrested."
"I haven't any warrant," answered the officer, weakly.
"You will have one in five minutes!" said Mr. Blackford. "I tell you to hold that man. Mr. Bailey, get to the nearest justice of the peace as soon as you can. Swear out a warrant and have it brought here. Officer, arrest that man!"
There was something more than disinterested authority in Mr. Blackford's tone. The constable worked his way through the crowd.
"Good people, let me pass! Let me pass!" the faker was saying. "I have to catch a train!"
"Not much you won't! If I have to hold you myself!" muttered Mr. Bailey, angrily.
"You get to that justice as fast as you can," directed Mr. Blackford. "We'll hold this man, if we have to chloroform him!"