Arrived at the police station, the countryman and the patrolman both
talked at once, while Bob stood in silence, overcome by the disgrace of
his arrest.
Taking his pencil, the sergeant stopped the countryman's torrent of
words, and began to ask him questions as to his meeting with the
strangers, eliciting the information that he had met them coming over on
the ferry-boat from Jersey City, and that the business deal they had
proposed was the betting of fifteen hundred dollars on a race horse that
was sure to win.
"It's a pity there isn't a law to keep you country people out of the
cities," grunted the sergeant, when the details of the story had been
told him, and then, turning to the policeman, he said:
"You did right in bringing along the boy, McCarty. He is evidently one
of the gang, or he wouldn't have been passing along the street just as
he was. We may be able to learn from him who the 'con' men are, and
where they hang out. Search him, and then take him back to a cell.
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