It was not the first betrayal in Jimmy James's young life, but it was
totally unexpected. He didn't know that the policeman from the bank had
worried Jake; he didn't know that Jake had known all along who he was; he
didn't know how fast Brennan had moved after the phone call from Jake.
But his young mind leaped past the unknown facts to reach a certain, and
correct, conclusion.

He had been sold out.

"Jimmy, Jimmy," came the old, pleading voice. "Why did you run away?
Where have you been?"

Brennan stepped forward and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Without
a shadow of doubt," he said formally, "this is James Quincy Holden. I so
identify him. And with no more ado, I hand you the reward." He reached
into his inside pocket and drew out an envelope, handing it to Jake. "I
have never parted with one thousand dollars so happily in my life."

Jimmy watched, unable to move. Brennan was busy and cheerful, the model
of the man whose long-lost ward has been returned to him.

"So, James, shall we go quietly or shall we have a scene?"

Trapped and sullen, Jimmy Holden said nothing. The officers helped him
down from the desk. He did not move. Brennan took him by a hand that was
as limp as wet cloth. Brennan started for the door. The arm lifted until
the link was taut; then, with slow, dragging steps, James Quincy Holden
started toward home.