“Keep your clothes on, my friend,” advised the stranger, giving Pickle a look in which disdain and amusement seemed mingled. “You’ll get your share of the reward for capturing Gentleman Jim, but I’ll take him back to York State.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Burke Sheldon, and I’m a detective.” Saying which, he flipped open his coat and displayed a badge that caused Mr. Pickle to gasp and touch his hat with a sudden show of great respect. “I was pretty close on this man’s heels. His pals are likewise wanted. See that you hold them tight and fast, officer, until I secure the needed requisition papers.”
Now Sleuth Piper had not been far away when the new captives arrived, and, crowding close in the throng that surrounded the posse, he heard the words of Detective Sheldon.
“Great scissors!” he muttered, aghast. “Is that Gentleman Jim?”
Fred Sage had followed Sleuth into the thick of the crowd, and he proceeded to lay a hand on the shoulder of the bewildered boy.
“That’s Gentleman Jim,” he palpitated exultantly. “Now you see what a blunder you made. Luckily, you promised to keep still until these men were caught.”
“It don’t seem possible!” muttered Piper sorrowfully. “I don’t see how I could have missed fire in my deduction.”
“Come with me a minute,” urged Fred. “I’ve got something to show you. I want to prove to you that my brother told the truth when he declared his innocence.”
Seemingly dazed and crushed, Sleuth permitted Fred to drag him from the crowd, and when he had read the letter from Jorlemon and Gates he was a very sick-looking chap indeed. For some moments he stood with his hands sunk deep in his pockets, his head drooping and his eyes fixed upon the ground. Presently, kicking weakly at some pebbles, he began to speak.