“Whether you are or not, you’re going to listen to me now,” said Tom. “Unless,” he added, as though by an afterthought, “you’d rather have the police and the district attorney do the talking?”
At the word “police” Hankinshaw’s face blanched and his bluster dropped away.
“Because, you know,” went on Tom, “this is a police matter. I find you in the dead of night on my property after scaling a locked enclosure, handling my implements, and for all I know getting ready to carry them away. It’s as though I woke up in my room at night and found a burglar rifling my bureau drawers. The fact that he didn’t have time to get anything before I nabbed him wouldn’t prevent his being tried and convicted for burglary. I imagine that if I chose to hand you over they’d put you where the dogs couldn’t bite you for a while.”
Hankinshaw moistened his parched lips with his tongue.
“There’s no use talking that way,” he said, and there was unmistakable fear in his voice. “Why should I want to take anything away? And how could I if I did want to? They’re too heavy to handle. Do you think I’d walk off with your derrick?”
“Stop your stalling, Hankinshaw, and tell me the truth—that is, if you can,” commanded Tom sharply. “What were you doing in this enclosure at this time of night?”
“Why—why, I was restless and—and couldn’t sleep,” stammered Hankinshaw. “So I dressed and went out——”
“For a nice little moonlight stroll, I suppose,” interrupted Tom sarcastically, looking up at the lowering sky.
CHAPTER XI
A RASCAL FOILED
“I went out,” continued Hankinshaw, affecting not to notice the unbelief in Tom’s voice, “for a walk——”