Finally, however, his anxiety found
expression in words. His tone was pregnant with alarm, though he
strove to make it merely complaining.
"Say, what am I arrested for?" he protested. "I ain't done
anything."
Even now, Burke did not look up, and his pen continued to hurry
over the paper.
"Who told you you were arrested?" he remarked, cheerfully, in
his blandest voice.
Garson uttered an ejaculation of disgust.
"I don't have to be told," he retorted, huffily. "I'm no college
president, but, when a cop grabs me and brings me down here, I've
got sense enough to know I'm pinched."
The Inspector did not interrupt his work, but answered with the
utmost good nature.
"Is that what they did to you, Joe? I'll have to speak to
Cassidy about that. Now, just you sit down, Joe, won't you? I
want to have a little talk with you. I'll be through here in a
second." He went on with the writing.
Garson moved forward slightly, to the single chair near the end
of the desk, and there seated himself mechanically.
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