"All I'm thinking of is good,
honest old John Scammon."
"It'd break me old man's heart---sure it would," put in Tip, cunningly.
At the first cry from Belle and Laura Bentley, however Mrs. Meade,
who was also in the secret, had hurried down into Clark Street.
Just as it happened she had espied a policeman less than a block
away. That officer, posted by Mrs. Meade, now came hurrying
down the alleyway.
"Oho! Tip, is it?" demanded the policeman. "Let him up, Darrin.
I can handle him. Now, then, what's the row about?"
Thereupon Dick and his chums had to tell the story. There was
no way out of it. Officer Connors heard a little of it, then
decided:
"The station house is the place to tell the rest of this. Come
along, Tip. And you youngsters trail along behind."
Though the station house was not far away, a good-sized crowd
was trailing along by the time they reached the business stand
of the police. Tip was hustled in through the doorway, the three
young freshmen following. Leaning over the railing, smoking and
chatting with the sergeant at the desk, was plain clothes man
Hemingway.
"Hullo," muttered that latter officer, "what's this?"
"A slice out of one of your cases, I guess, Hemingway, from what
I've heard," laughed Connors. "According to these boys, Tip is
the fellow who knows the inside game of the High School thefts."
"Let's have Scammon in the back room, then," urged Hemingway,
leading the way to the guard room. The sergeant, also, followed,
after summoning a reserve policeman to the desk.
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