"You'll soon find out how foolish it is," says Ellery. "You're in the hands of the law."
"Wha-a-at!" gasps Jake. "For such a little thing as that? It—it can't be. Who says it of me?"
"Isn't this your hat?" says I, handin' him the hail-proof kelly. "It is, eh? Then you're the one. Come on, now. Right up to the house."
"It's a foolishness," he protests. "In Saginaw it couldn't be done."
All the way up the hill he mutters and grumbles but he keeps on going. Not until he gets near enough to get a glimpse of all the people in the drawin'-room does he balk.
"Matilda and all!" says he. "Why couldn't we go in by the back?"
"Nothing doin'," says Ellery, flourishing his knife. "You're goin' to face the music, you are."
"That's the way to talk to him, Ellery," says I. "But if you don't mind I think I'd better take charge of him from now on."
"Sure thing," says Ellery. "He's your prisoner."
"Then in you go, Jake," says I. "And don't forget about keepin' the hands up. Now!"