"Sure," echoed Jimmy, courteously. He did not understand; but things
seemed to be taking a turn for the better, so why disturb the
harmony?

"Dis gent," said Spike respectfully, "is boss of de cops. A police-
captain," he corrected himself.

A light broke upon Jimmy's darkness. He wondered he had not
understood before. He had not been a newspaper-man in New York for a
year without finding out something of the inner workings of the
police force. He saw now why the other's manner had changed.

"Pleased to meet you," he said. "We must have a talk together one of
these days."

"We must," said the police-captain, significantly. He was rich,
richer than he had ever hoped to be; but he was still on Tom
Tiddler's ground, and meant to make the most of it.

"Of course, I don't know your methods on this side, but anything
that's usual--"

"I'll see you at my office. Spike Mullins will show you where it
is."

"Very well. You must forgive this preliminary informal call. We came
in more to shelter from the rain than anything."

"You did, did you?"