"Thank you for your mop, ma'am," Jack called back, pantingly, as he gave chase. It annoyed him to have Miller prove so slippery, and he was filled with dread lest the defaulter should wind up by getting clean away.
Singing snatches of song, two sailors passed on the sidewalk, just at the head of the alleyway.
"Look what's coming," roared one, goodnaturedly, catching at his mate's hand. Thus, halted, they formed an effective barrier of brawn in the way of the first runner.
"Let me through! That wretch wants to kill me!" gasped Miller.
"We won't let him," replied one of the sailors, reassuringly.
"Hold him! The police want him!" implored Jack.
"Hold on, both of you," admonished one of the sailors, grabbing at Miller, while the other sailor placed himself so as to prevent the submarine boy from a possible attack. "One of you is lying. Which one is it?"
"Well," grinned Jack, reassured, "I'm not afraid to have you take us both before the nearest officer of the law. But I guess that man is afraid of such a test."
"Sounds like a straightforward answer," observed the other Jack Tar.
"This man," declared young Benson, "is Arthur Miller, wanted by the law for looting part of his ward's fortune and running away with the rest."