e fellow looked
as though he would have fought had there been any chance to draw
a weapon. But he was gazing straight into the muzzle of the police
chief's weapon.

An instant later both prisoners had been handcuffed, and a pistol
had been taken from the clothing of each. From the junkman,
too, had been taken a ring of keys.

"One of these fit your door?" demanded Simmons.

"Yes," growled the scowling one. "The long key."

"Bring the prisoners along, Delmar," ordered the chief. "I'll
lock up here. We'll come back later for a search."

Out on the sidewalk Phin Drayne plucked up courage enough to find
his voice.

"For goodness' sake, let me go, Chief," he begged, falteringly.
"I haven't done anything, although things look against me."

"I guess we'll be able to put things enough against you," retorted
the police official mockingly.

"Think of my mother!" pleaded the wild boy. "Think of our family---one
of the most respectable in town. Think of-----"

"Oh, you're enough to make one tired," broke in Dave Darrin,
in deep disgust. "You thought of Dick Prescott when you put up
the job to have him arrested as a burglar, didn't you?"

"Why, what do you mean? I didn't do anything to Dick Prescott,"
shouted Drayne angrily, or affecting to be angry.

"Tell that to the marines," quoth Darrin contemptuously. "It
was through following on your trail, Drayne, that I discovered
the whole trick, and also knew just where to take the police to
find you."

An hour later Chief Simmons was well satisfied that he had laid
the burglar scare in Gridley.

Not that the new chief had had so very much to do with the result,
either.

The first move had been to get back to the Kahn store, where Dick
Prescott was promptly freed, with the chief's hearty apologies.

Over at the police station, by separating Drayne from his accomplice,
Bill Stevens, the junkman, and questioning each separately, the
whole story had come out, chiefly through frenzied confessions.

Phin Drayne, loafing about town, and with his pocket money nearly
cut off by his father, had formed the acquaintance of Stevens,
who, besides being a junkman, was a very fair locksmith, though
about the latter trade he had never bragged publicly.

Drayne had been ripe for any move that would place him in more
funds. So, first of all, he and Stevens had entered the commercial
establishment of Drayne, senior. There, thanks to Phin's knowledge
of the premises, they