"Where did you get the papers, Mr. Wittleworth?" asked the detective.
"I didn't steal them."
"I don't say you did. Where did you get them, was the question I asked."
"Of course I don't wish to expose anybody. They came into my possession in consequence of an accident."
"Exactly so!" said the officer, taking the papers from Fitz, and producing a pair of handcuffs. "In consequence of an accident, I shall be obliged to put these irons on your wrists, and take you over to the jail."
"Me!" gasped Fitz, the iron entering his lofty soul. "I should like to know what my friend Choate would say to that!"
"In one word, will you wear the bracelets, or will you tell where you obtained the papers? Of course Mr. Checkynshaw will pay the reward. He is an honorable man, and does all he agrees. You will want the money to pay your friend Choate for keeping you out of the State Prison. What will you do?"
Fitz thought for a moment. The disgrace of being marched through the streets by a person so well known as Mr. Clapp, and with a pair of irons on his wrists, was intolerable to think of, and he decided to inform the officer where he had obtained the papers. He then related the particulars of his interview with Maggie.
"Then you did not find the papers yourself?" said Mr. Checkynshaw, with a feeling of relief, for it would have galled him sorely to pay the five hundred dollars to one he disliked so much.
"I did not," replied Fitz.