"When informed of the robbery," begins Tictocq, "I first questioned the bell boy. He knew nothing. I went to the police headquarters. They knew nothing. I invited one of them to the bar to drink. He said there used to be a little colored boy in the Tenth Ward who stole things and kept them for recovery by the police, but failed to be at the place agreed upon for arrest one time, and had been sent to jail. "I then began to think. I reasoned. No man, said I, would carry a Populist's socks in his pocket without wrapping them up. He would not want to do so in the hotel. He would want a paper. Where would he get one? At the _Statesman office_, of course. I went there. A young man with his hair combed down on his forehead sat behind the desk. I knew he was writing society items, for a young lady's slipper, a piece of cake, a fan, a half emptied bottle of cocktail, a bunch of roses, and a police whistle lay on the desk before him. "'Can you tell me if a man purchased a paper here in the last three months?' I said. "'Yes,' he replied; 'we sold one last night.' "'Can you describe the man?' "'Accurately. He had blue whiskers, a wart between his shoulder blades, a touch of colic, and an occupation tax on his breath.' "'Which way did he go?' "'Out.' "I then went--" "Wait a minute," said the Populist Candidate, rising; "I don't see why in the h----" "Once more I must beg that you will be silent," said Tictocq, rather sharply. "You should not interrupt me in the midst of my report." "I made one false arrest," continued Tictocq. "I was passing two finely dressed gentlemen on the street, when one of them remarked that he had 'stole his socks.' I handcuffed him and dragged him to a lighted store, when his companion explained to me that he was somewhat intoxicated and his tongue was not entirely manageable. He had been speaking of some business transaction, and what he intended to say was that he had 'sold his stocks.' "I then released him. "An hour afterward I passed a saloon, and saw this Professor von Bum drinking beer at a table. I knew him in Paris. I said 'here is my man.' He worshipped Wagner, lived on limburger cheese, beer, and credit, and would have stolen anybody's socks. I shadowed him to the reception at Colonel St. Vitus's, and in an opportune moment I seized him and tore the socks from his feet. There they are." With a dramatic gesture, Tictocq threw a pair of dingy socks upon the table, folded his arms, and threw back his head. With a loud cry of rage, the Populist Candidate sprang once more to his feet. "Gol darn it! I WILL say what I want to. I--" The two other Populists in the room gazed at him coldly and sternly. "Is this tale true?" they demanded of the Candidate.