“Not a thing,” the tramp muttered. Then he suddenly changed his mind. “Yes, I have too!” he announced. “I know you’ll take me to jail, so I may as well tell you the whole story. Not that you’ll believe me!”
“Go ahead,” the trooper encouraged.
“All right, I stole the money,” the tramp frankly admitted. “The first place I took it from was the Merrimac house.”
“Then he was telling the truth when he said he’d lost a strongbox!” Dan exclaimed. “The other claimants were false.”
“It was Merrimac’s money,” the tramp confirmed. “What’s more, except for twenty-five dollars I used to live on, every cent of it is still here in the box.”
“How did the box get in the coal bin of the church?” Mr. Hatfield questioned.
“I’m coming to that. But first I’d like to tell why I came to Webster City in the first place.”
“Tell the story in your own way,” Trooper Peterson instructed him. “You can put your hands down now.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s only fair to warn you that anything you say may be used against you in court.”