“Pshaw! A little thing like a prisoner’s constitutional rights doesn’t bother our friend Hodgins,” the Camera Chap interrupted. “Besides, it is a condition and not a theory which confronts us. I asked the turnkey to let me send a telegram from here, and was curtly refused. The man told me that he had orders not to let me communicate with any one. They wouldn’t even let me send word of my arrest to you. Still, I am confident that I’ll be able to find some way of getting a C. Q. D. call to the _Sentinel_.” “You don’t have to worry about that,” Carroll assured him. “Word has already been sent to the _Sentinel_. I guess by this time, Frank, Paxton is aware of your predicament.” “Why, what do you mean?” Hawley demanded eagerly. “I mean that as soon as I heard of your arrest, old man, I took the liberty of wiring to Paxton, advising him of the situation,” Carroll explained. “And you took that step without waiting to consult with me?” It seemed to Carroll that there was a trace of resentment in the Camera Chap’s tone. “Yes; I remembered how you used to hate to appeal to the paper when you were in difficulties in the days when I was on the _Sentinel_ staff. I was afraid that you wouldn’t hear of letting Paxton know of your plight, so I decided to go ahead on my own hook. Hope you’re not mad with me for doing so, old man?” “Mad with you? I should say not, indeed,” Hawley replied, with a joyous laugh. “I am mighty glad that you sent that telegram, Fred. Generally, as you say, I don’t like to bother the paper when I’m in trouble; but this is one of the times when I can’t get along without the _Sentinel’s_ help.” CHAPTER XXXV. A C. Q. D. CALL. Only a few days previous, Tom Paxton, managing editor of the New York _Sentinel_, had received a letter from the Camera Chap. It ran as follows: “MY DEAR TOM: I am having a great time out here in the beautiful Catskills. The peace and quiet of this picturesque mountain retreat are just the things for my jaded nerves. I have not forgotten my physician’s instructions to avoid all forms of excitement, nor your kind advice to try to forget that there is such a thing in the world as a camera. I like this calm, inactive life so much that if you can possibly spare me, I should like to stay out here a few weeks longer than I had contemplated. Hope this will be satisfactory, as I should really hate to leave here just now.” Now, Paxton knew the Camera Chap too well to be entirely deceived by this ingeniously worded missive. He knew that peace, inactivity, and picturesque scenery were not sufficiently alluring to Hawley to cause him to wish to prolong his absence from Park Row. He had strong doubts, too, whether it was within the bounds of possibility for Hawley to go for so long a time without using a camera.