“So,” said the Sergeant quietly, as he jerked the man to his feet. “I thought you would. Now don’t you start monkeyin’ no more. Step out!” And with his hand on the other’s collar, he guided him towards the detachment, which was only a short distance away.
On arriving there he unlocked the door and, ushering his captive into the office, at the back of which were two cells, he leisurely removed the handcuffs and proceeded to search him. What with blood, bruises, and dirt, the man’s face was a sight, and Benton, his anger now somewhat assuaged, felt slightly uneasy as he reflected on the prisoner’s appearance at the morrow’s court.
“Put your arms up!” he ordered, and mechanically dived into the coat pockets. His right hand encountered something square and soft, and he drew it out.
At the sight of the object his eyes dilated strangely. Well, well; it was only a woman’s little hand-bag with a name printed on it under a celluloid panel—
He read it at a quick glance and, ceasing his investigations, he grew curiously still. The prisoner, raising his head, met the Sergeant’s gaze. He shrank back, appalled, and a cry of fear burst from his mashed lips, for it seemed to him as if the devil himself were looking out of Benton’s ruthless eyes. With an indescribable bitterness of tone, the policeman suddenly spoke:
“You skunk,” he said; “you dirty, sneaking coyote. It was you, then, that robbed that poor thing with the little kiddie on the West-bound?”
He stopped and choked with his rage. Presently he burst out again: “Lord, Lord! but I’m glad I bashed you up like I did, and but for a probable charge of manslaughter I’d manhandle you properly. So that’s what you and your pal were laughin’ about when you went in to that bar? When you come to die—which event, may it please God to grant quickly—I hope that’ll be the very, very last thing in your memory—that you once robbed a helpless woman and her kid.”
He remained silent after this for a space, for a sudden disquieting thought had occurred to him.
“See here; look,” he began again. “If I put this charge of theft against you, it’ll mean having to locate and drag that woman back here all those weary miles, to identify her property and prove up the case against you.”
At his words a gleam of hope lit up the prisoner’s disfigured face.