"You certainly are talking, Foxy," chuckled O'Keefe. "Then my name's Doe--John Doe," and I thought the fellow's quick glance at me held an appeal. Of what sort, I had no idea. "And what, may I ask, is the charge?" he asked again, with what was apparently a great effort at calmness. "Oh, come now, Braxton," said the officer in a tone of disgust, "stop your foolery; you're just using up time. Ain't it enough that you're in this building and in this gentleman's rooms?" "In his rooms!" exploded Foxy Grandpa. "Why, you lunkhead, this gentleman will tell you I am his guest!" He turned to me with a sort of angry laugh. "Tell him, Lightnut," he rasped. "I've had enough of this!" The big policeman's features expanded in a grin, while Tim doubled forward an instant, his blue girth wabbling with internal appreciation of the Foxy one's facetiousness; and the janitor snickered. Jenkins looked shocked. As for me, dash it, I never so wished for my monocle, don't you know! O'Keefe's head angled a little to give me the benefit of a surreptitious wink. "Oh, certainly," he said, his voice affecting a fine sarcasm; "if the gentleman says you're his _friend_--" "He's no friend of mine," I proclaimed indignantly. "Never saw him before in my life." Instead of being confounded, the artful old villain fell back with a great air of astonishment and dismay. By Jove, he managed to turn fairly purple. "Wha-a-t's that?" he gasped stranglingly and clutching at the collar of his pajamas. "Say that again, Dicky." I looked at him severely. "Oh, I say, don't call me 'Dicky,' either," I remonstrated quietly. "It's a name I only like to hear my intimate friends use." He kind of caught the back of a chair and glared wildly at me from under his bushy wintry eyebrows. The beefy rolls of his lower jaw actually trembled. "Don't you--haven't you always classed me as that, Dic--er--Lightnut?" he sort of whispered. By Jove, the effrontery of such acting fairly disgusted me. I looked him over from head to foot with measured contempt. "I don't know you at all," I said coldly, turning away. "Ye gods!" he wheezed, clutching at his grizzled hair. CHAPTER XII I SEND A MAN TO JAIL The two policemen shifted impatiently. "That'll about do, Foxy," growled O'Keefe. "It's entertaining, but enough of a thing--" But the old duffer caught his sleeve. "Wait!" he panted. "One second--wait--just one second!" He looked at Jenkins and ducked his neck forward, swallowing hard. "Jenkins," he said with a sickly smile. "You--you see how it is with Lightnut--poor fellow! None of us ever thought he would go off that bad though. But, as it is, I guess you're the one now who will have to set me right with these people. You'll have to stand for me." Jenkins looked alarmed. He addressed the officers eagerly: "S'help me," he cried, his glance impaling the prisoner with scorn, "I never see this party before in the ten years I been in New York!"