Hogan laughed again.
“You’re a sport!” he complimented. “Is that all you want of me?”
The detectives consulted together a moment. Then one of them asked Joe and his two friends:
“What do you say? There isn’t much to be gained by arresting him. You’ve got about all you can out of him. I suppose you might as well let him go.”
“I’m willing,” spoke Joe. “All I wanted was to have my name cleared, and that’s been done.”
“I don’t care to have him prosecuted,” spoke Reggie. “It might bring my sister into unpleasant prominence, as most of the things were hers.”
“I say, my good fellow,” he went on—he would persist in being what he thought was English, “does the ticket for that bracelet happen to be among these you’ve given me.”
“No, here’s the thing itself—catch!” exclaimed Hogan, and he threw something to Joe, who caught it. It proved to be a quaint wrist-ornament.
The young pitcher slipped it into his pocket.