“Before I’ve had my breakfast?” demanded the man weakly.
“Well, wouldn’t you rather go without breakfast than have it in jail?” inquired Fudge impatiently. “If you start right now you might get the seven-forty train. I don’t believe they’d be watching the station so early, sir!”
Mr. Addicks’ expression became gravely curious. “Now, look here, hombres,” he said, “this is just play, isn’t it?”
“Play!” gasped Fudge. “What do you mean, play?”
“Why, this police business, of course. I mean, you don’t really believe that I’m that train-robber hero of yours, do you?”
Fudge’s jaw dropped and he stared blankly. Finally: “Do you m-m-mean that—that you aren’t?” he asked in a small voice.
Mr. Addicks shrugged. “Naturally I mean that, Shaw. I thought yesterday that you fellows were playing a game and I entered into it for the fun of it. But when you burst in at half-past seven in the morning and want me to leave town without any breakfast—well, I quit. You’ll have to find someone else for the part, old chap!”
“And you’re not the train-robber?” gasped Fudge.
“My dear fellow, I never robbed a train in my life. Sorry to disappoint you, but—well, there it is!”
“Then—then w-w-what have you done?” Fudge demanded.