O’Hagan closed his matchbox with a click and fixed his eyes upon the officer.
“Constable,” he said, with dignity, “step into the shop. This is an outrage for which Mr. Ritzmann shall pay. Step inside if you please—all of you.”
The wide-eyed clerks returned to the shop. Ritzmann, never taking his gaze from O’Hagan, but keeping at a safe distance, entered behind the Captain, clutching at the perplexed policeman and whispering: “He has robbed me! He’s got my cheque in his pocket!”
Having entered the shop,—to the excited clerks:
“Return to your duties, good fellows!” ordered O’Hagan. “I am not accustomed to be made an object of vulgar curiosity! Mr. Ritzmann, lead the way to your office. Constable—follow.”
The odd trio entered Ritzmann’s sanctum. O’Hagan closed the door.
“He’s dangerous!” cried the publisher. “He carries a pistol!”
O’Hagan raised his hand.
“The officer, Mr. Ritzmann,” he said, “is prepared to do his duty. But you have not stated your case. Of what am I accused?”
“Of extorting money from me, at the point of a pistol!”