"Do you know him, Renie?"
The girl fixed her eyes on the prisoner and recoiling, exclaimed:
"No, no, I do not know him! I thought it was another man! He must be the one!"
As the excited girl spoke she pointed toward the detective.
The latter still stood, the coolest party amidst all there assembled.
Renie had taken but a cursory glance at the prisoner. One glance had been sufficient to prove to her that it was not the detective, and observing the man's swarthy complexion she connected him with the Cuban Garcia, and it was the latter fact which in the excitement of the moment caused her to exclaim,
"He must be the one!"
As stated, the detective was perfectly cool, but he realized his position in all its terribleness, and more fully, when one of the men said:
"Now, then, stranger, give an account of yourself."
"I tell you I came here to see Betsy Pearce."