Jeff let his hand fondle Pal's head as he considered his chances. There was little possibility of breaking out by force and it would not be a good idea to do so anyway. As things stood, he faced a minor charge. Breaking jail was a major one. It was illegal to keep him confined for seven days without benefit of counsel, but that could be brushed over. They could always claim that they had held him on suspicion of some more serious charge. Jeff sighed. He held a club over Cressman, but Cressman held him in jail. He scratched Pal's ears and murmured, "Let it never be said that Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., gave way to despair." "What'd you say, Jeff?" Ike called. "Comfortable home," Jeff answered gaily. "Counted the cockroaches in your private suite?" "Not yet." "We got forty-seven," Ike said proudly. "One nigh as big as that dog of yours. What you got in your pack?" "Candles?" Jeff suggested. "Law! If Bucky and me had any money, we'd buy some." Jeff took three candles, which he bought for a penny and sold for three cents each, from his pocket. He handed two of them and a half dozen matches around the end of his cell. "A gift from Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd." "Thanks, Tarrant what-you-call-it. We'll pay you soon's we've found us a fortune." "I'll count on it," Jeff said. He lighted the third candle, dripped wax from it onto the iron stand, and set it upright in its own drippings. By its flickering light, he examined the cell more closely. It was what he had expected. The floor was dirty, the mattresses only a little less so, and cockroaches scurried for cracks. Jeff let his hand brush Pal's head again. Completely trusting, the dog wagged his tail and shoved his nose against his master's thigh. Dragging the mattress from the top bunk, Jeff laid it on the floor. Conceivably, even a dog would protest against sleeping up there. Hunger reminded Jeff that neither he nor Pal had eaten anything since last night, and again he took refuge in the happy thought that first things must be first. He edged up to the bars and said softly, "Ike." "Yeah?" "Where's the food come from around here?" "The garbage can," Ike answered sadly. "Anyhow, that's what I think." "Can we get any other?" "If you got money, you can ask Pop." "Nothing like trying." Jeff raised his voice, "Hey, Pop!" "What do you want?" "How about something to eat?" "It's not lunch time." "How about some anyhow?" "Got any money?" Jeff replied mournfully, "A few pennies that I've been saving for my old age. I can pay for it." Pop came to the cell. "What you want?" "Three loaves of bread and three half pounds of cheese." "Let's have the money." "_Uh-uh._ Bring it first." "Show me the money." Jeff held up two crumpled dollar bills. Pop walked to the entrance and there came the click of his key turning in the lock. Breathless silence reigned; this was a momentous occasion that must be properly observed. Ten minutes later the key clicked again and Pop came in with parcels.