“He pretends to be,” said Dutton. “But he isn’t any more. He used to be, I believe; but he went wrong, just as I did. Just as I might be now, but for you, Joe.”
His voice broke, and there was a hint of tears in his eyes.
“Oh, forget it!” said Joe, easily. “I didn’t do anything. But what sort of a fellow is this one, anyhow?”
The man had been hustled off the grounds by the officer.
“Oh, he’s just a plain tramp, the same as I was. Only he hasn’t anything to do with the railroad any more, except to rob baggage. That’s his specialty. He hangs around the depots, and opens valises and such when he gets a chance.”
“He does!” cried Joe, with sudden interest. “Is he the fellow the detectives wanted to get the time they raided the Keystone Lodging House?”
Pop Dutton flushed red.
“What—what do you know about that?” he asked.
“Oh—I—er—I happened to be around there when the police were getting ready to close in,” answered Joe, truthfully enough. He did not want to embarrass his friend by going into details.
“Oh,” said Pop, evidently in relief. “Yes, I think he was one of the gang they wanted to get. But they didn’t.”