THE TELL-TALE CAP.
For the moment Matt could do little more than stare at the two men
that confronted him. In a dim way he realized that Isaac Marvelling's
store had been entered and robbed, and that the mean-minded
store-keeper fully believed that he was the guilty party.
"Are you a-holding him, Jackson?" went on Isaac Marvelling anxiously.
"Look out, or he may slip away from you."
"I've got him, right enough," returned Jackson, one of the local
constables. "He'll have hard work to get away."
"What does this mean?" demanded the young auctioneer, aroused at last
to the necessity of doing something in his own behalf. "Let go of
me!"
"Oh, no, not just yet!" returned Jackson. "You're wanted, and you know
it."
"That's right, Jackson, don't let him slip you!" put in Marvelling
eagerly. "He's a good talker, but don't let that count with you."
"Will you tell me what I am wanted for?" asked Matt.
"For entering his store and stealing a lot of cutlery and jewelry,"
returned the constable.
"Forty-five dollars' worth," added Marvelling. "And all new stock,
too! Oh, you thought you would get away with it mighty smart-like,
didn't you?" he sneered.
"I haven't been near your store, and I know nothing about the theft,"
was Matt's steady reply.
"But we saw you run away from the store and come down here, didn't we,
Jackson?"
"We certainly did," returned the constable, with a grave shake of his
head.
"You saw me?" gasped Matt, starting back.
"Exactly," said Isaac Marvelling. "I heard you run out of the yard
behind the store right after I had called in Jackson to tell him about
the robbery. We both saw you jump the fence and skip off in this
direction."
"You might as well own up to what you have done," added the constable.
"It won't do you any good to deny it."
For the moment Matt did not reply to this. He was thinking of what had
occurred at the bridge just before the two men had reached it. Could
it be possible that the dark object which had left the place when he
had arrived was the thief, rooted out of what he had considered a safe
hiding-place?
"How near were you to me when you saw me first?" he asked of
Marvelling.
"We were near enough."
"Did you see my face?"
"Never mind if we did or not."
"No, I must say I didn't see your face," said the constable, who,
although a friend of the store-keeper, was yet disposed to be fair and
square.
"You probably saw a man, and he ran in this direction," went on Matt.
"We saw you," said Marvelling doggedly. "March him back to the store,
Jackson, and we'll make him confess where he has placed the stolen
stuff. He doesn't seem to have it with him."
"If you wish to get back your goods you had better listen to what I
have to say," returned Matt, trying to keep down his rising temper. "I
did not enter your store, but perhaps I can put you on the track of
the party who did."
"Oh, pshaw! that's all talk!" snarled Isaac Marvelling. "March him
back, Jackson."
"It won't do any harm to listen to his story," said the constable
meekly. "I reckon you want to get the goods back more than anything."
"Of course! of course!" responded the store-keeper eagerly. "I can't
afford to lose forty-five dollars' worth of stuff at once."
"You say you didn't do the job, and that you think you can put us on
the right track?"
"I think I can do something for you," returned Matt.
And in a few brief words he told how he happened to be at the bridge
and what he had seen. The constable listened with deep interest, but
Isaac Marvelling pooh-poohed the whole story.
"He's a good one at telling 'em," said the store-keeper. "I don't
place no credit in what he says."
"Well, it won't do any harm to investigate," replied Jackson. "You
hold him, while I light my lantern and take a look under the bridge."
"He may try to get away from me," said Marvelling, as he surveyed
Matt's tall and well-built form with some trepidation. "He would most
likely do anything to keep out of jail."
"I have more at stake than you have," cried the young auctioneer.
"Indeed?"
"Yes, sir. I consider my reputation worth considerably more than a
paltry forty-five dollars."
"Do you? Well, to me the reputation of a traveling and swindling
auctioneer isn't worth much!" grumbled Isaac Marvelling.
"You may regret those words," was Matt's brief reply; and for the time
being he said no more.
In the meanwhile Jackson had struck a match and lit the somewhat smoky
lantern he carried.
Seeing to it that Matt was safe in Marvelling's custody, the constable
sprang down from the bridge to the rocks below. A second later he
disappeared under the bridge.
The two above heard him rummaging around in the loose stones and among
the brush for all of five minutes. Both listened for some call from
him, the store-keeper all the while keeping a tight hold on Matt's
arm.
"Well, have you found anything?" cried the store-keeper at last,
unable longer to stand the suspense.
"I have," returned Jackson, and a second later he appeared again,
holding in his hand a carving-knife and two spoons.
"Found these under the bridge," he explained, as he clambered up upon
the structure again. "They are your goods, I take it."
"Of course they are my goods!" cried Isaac Marvelling, as he glanced
at the articles. "Is that all?" he went on disappointedly.
"That's all I could find. There may be more there or in the water."
"This young rascal threw them there!" cried the store-keeper, shaking
Matt's arm savagely. "You imp! tell me where the other things are at
once, or I'll skin you alive!"
"Look here, Mr. Marvelling; I want you to let go of me and be
reasonable," returned Matt, as calmly as he could. "I am not a thief.
If I was, would I tell the story I did, or send down your companion to
find those things? My story about that object under the bridge is
true, and, to my way of thinking, it was the thief you saw jump the
fence and run in this direction. When I sprang down to bathe my face
and hands he got scared and ran out on the other side of the bridge,
and in his hurry he must have dropped the things which have been
found."
"Stuff and nonsense!"
"His story may be true," put in Jackson mildly.
"My advice is to follow up the brook and see if you cannot track the
thief," went on the young auctioneer. "And do not lose any time in
doing it."
"And what will become of you?" sneered the store-keeper.
"I will go with you, if you wish."
"That's a good idea," said the constable. "Come, let us start without
delay. If we can't find anybody we can take the boy to the lock-up,
anyway."
Isaac Marvelling grumbled, but at last consented, and soon all three
were down under the bridge. Here it was pitch-dark, and the feeble
rays of the lantern only lit up a circle that was less than three
yards in diameter.
In hopes of clearing himself, more than for the purpose of aiding
Isaac Marvelling in the recovery of the goods, Matt set to work with a
will.
"Here is another spoon," he said presently, and he handed over a
silver-plated affair, which at the most was not worth fifteen cents,
wholesale.
"Here are a couple of knives," added Jackson. "And here is a bit of
paper some of the stuff must have been wrapped in."
"Look here!" suddenly cried Matt, as he pointed down into the water.
"Here's a man's cap, and it looks as if it had just fallen in, for one
side of the peak is not yet wet."
"Let me see that cap," returned the constable quickly.
He snatched it from Matt's hand and turned with it to the lantern. His
examination lasted but a few seconds.
"Say, Marvelling, have you seen anything of old Joe Yedley lately?" he
asked, turning to the store-keeper.
"Yedley? Why, yes; he was in the store begging, only yesterday," was
the reply. "But what has he----"
"Did you give him anything?"
"Give him anything?" cried Marvelling wrathfully. "Not a cent! I told
him to clear out; that I didn't want him to ever come in again. I have
no use for beggars."
"Did he go near the case with the cutlery and jewelry in it?"
"Humph! I suppose he did. But what has he to do with this?"
"This is Joe Yedley's cap; I would know it out of a thousand. He is an
old offender, and it is more than likely that he is the thief!"