The policeman followed. By this time he had found his tongue. He seemed pleased with Jimmy’s interest. “The worst looking room is over here,” he said, and he led the way through a corridor filled with debris. The plaster had been blown from the ceiling, the walls were torn and broken, the window-glass was blown out, furniture was smashed and splintered, and the entire room was in a state of the utmost confusion. “Stand right there,” said Jimmy, posing his victim before a shattered and bulging section of wall. Then he snapped his picture before the policeman could protest. “I believe I can get some better pictures up here than any I have,” said Jimmy, and he took several pictures that perfectly portrayed the havoc wrought by the explosion. “I must get back to my post,” said the policeman, suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be guarding the front door. Jimmy’s heart fell. He thought he was about to be ordered out of the building. But he was equal to the occasion. “You won’t be leaving the place for a while, will you?” he asked. “I want to talk to you. I’ll look you up at the front door just as soon as I get another picture or two.” The policeman hesitated. He glanced at Jimmy’s police pass, and though he had been ordered to keep everybody out of the building except policemen, firemen, and hospital employees, he allowed Jimmy to remain, while he himself returned to guard the front door. Doubtless he thought that the damage was already done, and that it would do no harm if Jimmy did get another picture or two. As for Jimmy, the moment the policeman’s back was turned he scurried higher up in the wrecked building and took picture after picture. His remark about the policeman’s bravery had been a shot in the dark. Jimmy hadn’t any idea whether the man had been present during the disaster or not. But he knew the weakness most folks have for wishing to appear like heroes, and he knew that policemen are no exception to the rule. As luck would have it, this policeman had actually had a share in the work of rescue. Jimmy found that out when he hurried back to the front door after getting all the pictures he wanted. “Please spell your name for me,” he said, as the policeman turned to greet him. “I want to be sure I get it right.” “L-a-f-f-e-r-t-y—Dennis Lafferty,” the policeman spelled out, a letter at a time. “That’s fine,” said Jimmy. “I just hate to get a man’s name wrong. And I’d hate mighty bad to get yours wrong after all the fine work you did.” Jimmy could see the man swelling with pride. “I only did my duty,” he said. “Tell me about it,” urged Jimmy. “Maybe the fellow who told me about it didn’t have the story straight.”