“But can’t he get out on bail?”
“Oh, it could be arranged. I have nothing to do with that. I’m just supposed to get him—and I’ve got him!”
“But I—I haven’t done anything!” insisted Link.
“That’s what they all say,” sneered the detective. “Come along!”
“Do—do I have to go with him?” asked Link, turning to Andy in appeal.
“I’m afraid so,” was the answer. “But I’ll go with you and try to get bail. Don’t worry, Link. It’s all a mistake. You’ll soon be free.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” warned the officer. “I’ve been searching your room, young man, and I guess you know what I found there.”
“You certainly found in my room only the things that belonged to me!” exclaimed Link, indignantly.
“Did I? What do you call this?” and the detective took from his pocket a small book. Andy recognized it at once as one of the valuable ones taken from Chittenden Hall.
“You—you found that in my room?” cried Link, aghast.