“Hugh,” said the boy, trying to brace up, “no matter what they say or do I want you to know I’m innocent, and that I’d sooner cut my hand off than do such a thing after I’ve been getting on so finely. That’s all I can say,” and he heaved a mighty sigh as though resigning himself to the inevitable.
They tell us that it is always darkest just before dawn, and Hugh had cause to remember this later on. He thought he was feeling about as badly as any one could, and hardly knew which way to turn as the pompous-looking Chief of Police could be seen hurrying toward the spot.
Just then a hearty voice rang out, and somehow it seemed to instantly give Hugh a feeling of greatest relief, even before he caught the tenor of what was said.
“I’ve kept quiet long enough,” said this party. “I wanted to see just how far this thing would go. That boy is innocent, because I saw the man drop that pocketbook in his coat. You know me, I guess. Jones is my name, and it’s never been questioned.”
CHAPTER X.
ONE BOY’S INFLUENCE.
Yes, it was their friend of the other day, Mr. Jones, the same who had helped keep back the crowd at the time Arthur was working over the man injured in the runaway accident.
Again he had bobbed up just at the critical moment. On hearing the splendid news he brought, Hugh felt like giving a shout of joy. As for poor, badgered Andy, his mouth opened, and his eyes grew luminous with tears, but for the life of him he could not give utterance to the mingled emotions that filled his heart.
The little man who had been robbed was not going to give up quite so easily.
“Even if you saw someone drop this empty bill-folder in his pocket, sir, that doesn’t prove him innocent. Would you know the thief again if you saw him again?”
Mr. Jones grinned, for he seemed to be greatly amused over something or other.