be docking me if I don't get busy," he added, with a mischievous
twinkle in his keen gray eyes. "Or, worse, she'll be comin'
in here an' findin' out what's goin' on."

"Why didn't one of you come in here before I got to the top of
the stairs?" asked Fremont, illogically. "Why did you just
happen in here in time to accuse me of doing this thing?"

"I was just beginnin' on this floor," the boy replied. "I wish now
that I hadn't come in here at all. You know what I've got to do?"

"You mean call the police?" asked Fremont.

"That's what I've got to do."

"I didn't do it. I wasn't here when it was done," exclaimed Fremont.
"You've got to listen to me. You've got to listen to me, and believe
what I say. It is your duty to do so."

"What did you want to go and be a Boy Scout an' do such a thing for?"
demanded the boy. "Boy Scouts don't protect robbers, or murderers.
You know I've got to go an' call the police. There ain't nothin'
else I can do."

"If you call the police now," Fremont urged, "you'll rob me of every
chance to prove that I am innocent. They will lock me up in the
Tombs and I'll have no show at all. Mrs. Cameron will believe that
I did it, and won't come near me. If he dies I'll be sent to the
electric chair--and you'll be my murderer."