“That won’t help you,” was the quiet warning. “Don’t resist, because you will be the person to suffer if you do.”
“What am I arrested for?” asked Clayton, composing himself with a tremendous effort.
“Stealing jewels estimated at about eighty thousand dollars from Mr. Stephen Reed, of New York City. He is said to be your uncle. We think we have the goods on you, too.”
Paul Clayton dropped his head despairingly. To think that, just when he had been so sure that he could return to his uncle the jewels he knew now he never had meant to keep, and begin life anew, with no stain on his name, he had to be arrested by this strange detective, who had followed him all this way, and seemed to have got to San Juan before him!
“Very well!” he sighed. “I’ll go with you quietly. There is nothing else I can do. I only want to say that Mr. Reed would have had all his property back as soon as it could reach him by express, and that there would have been no need for this arrest.”
“I guess so!” remarked the detective, with an incredulous shrug. “But I caution you that anything you say may be used against you at your trial. My advice to you is not to talk.”
“I have been a fool, I know,” went on Clayton, seemingly unable to keep his tongue quiet. “But I meant to make good.”
“Be careful.”
“I am careful. I have nothing to hide. The suit case holding the property is over on that chair, in my cabin. On the table is a letter I have written to Mr. Reed, and which would have been mailed as soon as I could get ashore. You can read it, and it will convince you that I have been telling the truth.”
“You’d better tell that to the judge,” interrupted the officer.