Part 8 (1/2)
”h.e.l.lo, Rex, what under the sun?”
It was Scott Bowman. He had just come out of a trunk store in time to confront the sorry procession.
Rex wished the manhole cover over which he was pa.s.sing would suddenly give way and precipitate him under the sidewalk in theatrical trap door fas.h.i.+on. Scott was the last person in all the world whom he wished to see.
”Don't you come near me, Scott,” he answered, ”if you don't want to be disgraced. I'm under arrest.”
The look of utter and complete amazement on young Bowman's face at hearing this did more to convince the officer he had the wrong person in custody than anything else. He allowed Rex to stop and parley with his friend.
The situation was explained in few words. Scott was a year older than Rex. His father was a city official with a salary of ten thousand a year. He was highly indignant when he heard of the outrage.
”This is monstrous,” he said, and announcing who he was, demanded that Rex be instantly released.
”But I can't do that, Mr. Bowman, if that is really your name,”
responded the officer somewhat nettled. ”Because this young gentleman happens to be a friend of yours, it doesn't make it any the less likely that he broke that window.”
”'If that is really my name?'” repeated Scott, highly incensed.
”You'll find out whether that is my name or not when I report this affair to my father.”
The officer smiled; so did a number in the crowd. Rex felt that his former humiliation was nothing compared to that which he was now undergoing, having caused his friend to be treated in this insulting fas.h.i.+on.
”Come on,” said the policeman, and the line of march to Sydney's office was resumed, Scott valiantly falling into place beside Rex, vowing vengeance on the entire force of bluecoats.
”Don't stay with me, Scott,” Rex implored him. ”You've borne enough. I don't want to drag you down into the mire too.”
”Do you suppose I'd desert a friend in a time of need like this?”
returned Scott. ”I'm going to take this officer's number now while I think of it.”
Scott fished a pencil out of one pocket and a railroad timetable out of the other, and glancing at the s.h.i.+eld on the breast of the policeman made a record of the figures on it in a very conspicuous manner. But the officer did not tremble with apprehension. He simply turned to Rex and observed, ”This is the place, isn't it?”
They had reached the building in which Sydney had his office.
”Yes, this is the place,” replied Rex slowly. He was thinking how dreadful it would be to present himself before Syd with this crowd at his heels.
”I don't know whether he's in or not,” he added. ”Will you mind going up and finding out, Scott?”
”Of course I won't. I know just where the room is and I'll bring him down in a jiffy.”
The policeman motioned the crowd back and he and Rex and the patient Chinaman went into the marble corridor and waited, while the throng peered in at them from the doorway and a new one began to gather from among those who pa.s.sed to and fro in the building.
”I'm glad I never knew this was going to happen to me,” reflected Rex.
”I'd never have known a happy day if I had.”
He had no fear of going to jail. He felt that there was justice enough in the world to ward that off.
But the ignominy of his present position was torture enough to a proud spirit like his.
Ah, here was one of the elevators coming down, with Scott looking eagerly out at him. And Syd was with him.