Meanwhile, Skippy was aware that his role of John Doe, thief, had become almost too realistic to be comfortable. His morning wait in the courtroom had seemed interminable. The heat was oppressive, the court procedure tiresome and he felt not a little regret that he had not urged Mr. Conne to have his aunt come and give him the bit of encouragement he needed to go on with his part in the reformatory. He thought of his dead father, of Big Joe Tully who had lost his life saving the Airedale, Mugs, which he had given to Skippy. And Mugs too was gone, killed by an auto. Not that he felt in the least fearful nor doubted his ability to go through with his strange role. He merely felt a little lonesome and wished that he might look out over the sea of faces that crowded the courtroom and see his Aunt Min's among them, smiling her encouragement. But his aunt was at home busy with her sewing that morning, quite content with the money that Carlton Conne had turned over to her and satisfied that the great detective would see that her nephew was safe and sound. Skippy had to be content with the presence of Dick Hallam, Carlton Conne's man, notwithstanding the fact that he was supposed to be prosecuting him. Hallam, however, was better than no one at all for when the occasion permitted, he flashed a significant look at the boy. He spent the afternoon in an ante room and Dick Hallam, blond, tall and about twenty-eight, played "rummy" with him. Also, he had too much to eat, including ice cream and candy and cold drinks and at about four o'clock Carlton Conne came in. "All set, kid?" he asked with that half-smile that Skippy was beginning to like. "_And how!_" the boy grinned, feeling cheerful immediately. "He's been acting like it's a picnic, boss," Dick Hallam interposed gaily. "Fine," said the detective. "You want to keep it up, kid--you've nothing to fear--not a thing! Everything's been arranged, and I don't think you'll have to spend more than a night or two at Delafield. Meanwhile, what time you _do_ spend, you'll have someone watching close at hand so never feel you're alone. The warden and a few trusted guards know of our little game, but of course you're to speak to no one about it unless you're spoken to first. Now--you remember all the signals?" "Yes sir--everythin'!" Dick Hallam grinned. "He's just nervous about riding up with that rough neck gang that's been sentenced today, boss. Especially one tough kid named Nickie Fallon who got seven years for trying his hand at a hold-up and carrying a gun. Some character, that kid." "I know," Conne said understandingly, "that's the only disagreeable part of this job, kid. But I warned you what the company would be like." "Aw gee, Mr. Conne, I ain't afraida that. I was just wonderin' if they'd be the kind of guys what start a fight on the way an' if they did what would I do, huh?"