He spoke savagely, but I brightened a little. "Oh!" I said. "Didn't they recognize you, either?" Billings' snort made me jump. "Recognize!" he bellowed. "They went back, mad as hell!" "By Jove!" I said soothingly. "That's not all," continued Billings grimly. "I was so sure it was a put-up job, some asinine, fool joke, I wrote a cautious note to the governor. After a lot of pleading, I got the fools to send it. He came." Billings paused dramatically. "Oh, yes, _he_ came!" he went on, fixing me with an excited eye. "And when I staggered forward and did the prodigal son act on his neck, he handed me a punch that jolted off his silk tile. Went straight up in the air with the whole bunch down there and contracted to do things for them that will keep him active for a year. Threatened to have _me_ sent up for forgery--this is my own father now, mind you--forgery of my own name! Huh!" Billings strode to the end of the room and back. Then he sat down again, beating with his foot upon the floor. "Say, has everybody gone crazy?" he demanded. I didn't dare say a word, for I had my own opinions, you know, and I knew it wouldn't do to express them. Only excite him. Best way seemed just to pretend to swallow it all, you know. Best way always, Pugsley says, especially with best friends. "They were pretty nasty after that," Billings went on gloomily; "and they wouldn't send for any one else. Just had to sit there in that infernal bastile with nothing on but pajamas and a pair of bedroom slippers. Every once in a while somebody would come and address me as 'Foxy,' and want me to send for my clothes or else send out and buy some. Finally, a big brute came and threw me some dirty rags and said I'd _have_ to put on those or else buy some others. Buy some, Dicky--did you get that?--_buy_ some!" "Devilish rude, _I_ say," I commented indignantly. "Who wants to wear _bought_ clothes? Why, dash it, my tailor says--" "Pshaw!" Billings whirled his fat head impatiently. "You miss the whole point, Dicky! I didn't have a cent of _money_; and what's more, I couldn't get any." He paused. "See? Try to get that, Dicky--make an effort, old chap." I did, but, dash it, it was such a rum idea--very oddest thing he had said--and silly, you know. Fancy any one not being able to send out and get money! I just got to thinking what a jolly queer idea it was and lost part of what Billings was saying--something about how he managed to get them to send a note for his clothes. Here is what I _did_ hear: