“I tell you I came to arrest him!” Taylor cried, striving to keep his already ruffled temper.
“Arrest that charming man?” Mrs. Harrington cried with scorn. “Was there ever anything so utterly absurd!”
“Absurd!” he sneered. “You won’t think so when you learn who I am. Ask that girl there; she knows; she’ll tell you whether I’m absurd.”
Instantly they all centred their gaze on Ethel. For a second she looked at him blankly. “I never saw the man before,” she told them.
“You didn’t, eh?” Taylor cried, after a pause of sheer astonishment, “I guess you’ll remember me when I serve a warrant for your sister’s arrest. It’s in my pocket now with other papers that prove I’m working for the United States Government.” He made a motion as though to get them but found Denby’s gun close under his nose.
“No you don’t,” Denby warned him. “You’ve probably got a neat little automatic pistol there. I know your sort.”
But when he seemed about to relieve the deputy-collector of his papers Taylor shouted a loud protest.
“Very well,” Denby cried. “If you had rather Mr. Harrington did, it’s all the same to me. Mr. Harrington,” turning to his host, “will you please remove whatever documents you find in his inner pocket, so that we may find out if what he says is true.”
“Surely,” Michael returned. “I like every man to have justice even if the electric chair yearns for him.” Carefully he removed a bundle of papers neatly tied together. And one of them, as Ethel Cartwright saw, was the warrant made out for her sister’s arrest. She wondered why Denby had invited inspection of them, but was not long to remain in doubt.
“Now,” said Michael judicially, “we’ll do the thing properly.”