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w York police and get your record. Maybe there is another picture of you in the Rogues Gallery!"
The old man started excitedly. "No, no, don't do that!" he cried. Then feeling that he had given himself away, added, "I don't like policemen; they ask too many questions. I have done nothing. I'm an old man and don't want to be disturbed."
"All right, Peter, out with the story! If you say you stole the fan, we'll go easy with you. --That is, if you confess. The girls have asked me not to be too hard on you."
"Those girls!" exclaimed Peter Gruff, throwing his hands up in dismay. "They come and they come and they look into every corner of the shop! They are a nuisance!"
The Chief laughed heartily. "All right Peter, now why did you take the fan?"
"I wouldn't steal the fan," began Peter Gruff, but Chief Baldwin rose.
"All right, we'll get the city police on the job and it will likely mean a long term in prison for you."
At the word "prison," Peter Gruff jumped to his feet. "No, no, Chief, not that! I'll tell." And with the helpful questioning of the Chief, the old man blurted out his story. It began with the night of the party. He had looked for the fan in the attic. It was his footprints in the dust and the snow.
"How could that be?" laughed Chief Baldwin, looking at the tiny foot of the old man. "Those feet were big."
Peter hesitated a moment then continued: "I put on big shoes so they'd think a big man did it."
He owned that he had slipped back into the house and had been seen by some of the young people. Finally he had hidden away in a closet and waited until the party was over. When he thought everyone was asleep he had crept into Colonel Baxter's study and stolen the fan, and later he had hidden it in Hermit's Hut.
"But why did you hide it away out there?" asked the Chief.
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