“Have a care!” He leaned forward with a hand held up for warning. “You may change things in a manner that will get you in bad. Very bad indeed.”
“Just what do you mean by that?” Johnny was on the defensive.
“Don’t ask me how I know.” The reporter leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “It is the business of a reporter to know much and write what he thinks is safe; at least that’s best for him. And in this world it’s every man for himself.
“Now I happen to know,” his voice dropped still lower, “that you have in your possession a roll of marked money.”
Marked money! There it was again. Johnny started. How could this reporter know so much?
“That money,” the reporter went on, “will be your undoing. Unless you walk a very straight and narrow path, you are going to suffer. You will sing your psalms on Sunday behind iron bars and make shoes or clothes-pins during the week.”
“Prison,” the boy thought with a shudder. The money appeared to burn a hole in his pocket. “Why did I take it? I’ll get rid of it at once.”
The reporter appeared to read his mind. “Won’t do a bit of good to dispose of it now. Those men have witnesses to swear you took it, and others who will say under oath that they saw you with it later. That’s evidence enough.
“Mind you,” he went on smoothly, “I am not threatening you. Why should I? I am only a reporter who knows things. I am telling you what is safe. All you have to do is to drop this whole affair; forget it. Take the money. Go on a fishing trip. Have a good time; you’ll not be molested.”
“I don’t want the money!” Johnny protested indignantly. “I—”