“Mr. Carter; Mr. Carter,” he expostulated, “you are going beyond your authority. You had no right to strike Mr. Dinwiddie. You——”
“One moment, Mr. Remsen. As an officer, I admit that I had not the right to strike him in the way I did; but as a man, I not only had every right, but it was my duty. He was defaming a good woman, and doing it in a shamefaced manner that long ago earned him the title he bears—for, in spite of all that he has said, this man is none other than that very Bare-Faced Jimmy he has been talking about.”
“Oh, you brute! you brute!” cried Lenore, striving in vain to escape from her mother’s detaining arms.
Nick merely glanced at her and murmured, “Poor girl!” then he went on, addressing the constable, who was still reluctant to perform what he considered to be his duty.
“Where did you come from?” Nick demanded of the constable.
“From the village,” was the reply. “What is that to you, anyhow?”
“You’ll find out what it is to me presently. Who asked you to come here?”
“Mr. Dinwiddie; that man there, whom you knocked down.”
“And why did he ask you to come here?”
“He told me that there had been a jewel robbery, and that if I was on hand at this hour to-night, he would expose the thief, and that I would get the credit for the arrest.”