“I tell you, Bonny, that you shan’t take all the credit from our police force. It’s all very well for those New York men to crow. They weren’t in it.”
“They were, Tom,” replied Bonny, indignantly.
The Judge stared. Boniface Gravely was a young elegant who prided himself on his good manners. What dispute had he come here in his study to settle? He never had seen him out of temper before. Now he was red and flushed, and looked as if he could strike his brother-in-law.
The Judge caught other phrases from other excited ones. “The police—cab—driving fast—running away—railway station—caught them in time.” Something startling had evidently happened.
He put out one of his long arms and drew Titus toward him. “Grandson, what is all this about?”
“B-b-lest if I know,” said Titus, bluntly. “I never saw such a mix-up in my life. The people are just pouring into the house, and they’re all too excited to explain. I tried to get hold of Dallas, but he’s sparring over there in a corner with the dirtiest little ragamuffin I ever saw. He’s called Cracker, and I guess Dallas saw him stealing something.”
“You might keep your eyes open, Titus,” groaned the Judge. “I never had such an irruption into my house as this before.”
“W-w-whatever it is, Bethany’s in it,” said Titus. “I hear them talking about her.”
“Can’t you get hold of her, Titus, and take those clothes off?”
Titus looked sharply at him. His grandfather’s voice was almost childish. These people were driving him distracted.