inus.
When he expressed a wish to buy a new hat and telegraph to his friends,
both policemen with one voice warned him that whatever he said would
be used as evidence against him; and this had impressed Wilton
tremendously.

"They were so infernally polite," he said. "If they had clubbed me I
wouldn't have cared; but it was, 'Step this way, sir,' and, 'Up those
stairs, please, sir,' till they jailed me--jailed me like a common
drunk, and I had to stay in a filthy little cubby-hole of a cell all
night."

"That comes of not giving your name and not wiring your lawyer," I
replied. "What did you get?"

"Forty shillings, or a month," said Wilton, promptly,--"next morning
bright and early. They were working us off, three a minute. A girl in
a pink hat--she was brought in at three in the morning--got ten days. I
suppose I was lucky. I must have knocked his senses out of the guard. He
told the old duck on the bench that I had told him I was a sergeant in
the army, and that I was gathering beetles on the track. That comes of
trying to explain to an Englishman."

"And you?"

"Oh, I said nothing. I wanted to get out. I paid my fine, and bought a
new hat, and came up here before noon next morning. There were a lot of
people in the house, and I told 'em I'd been unavoidably detained, and
then they began to recollect engagements elsewhere. Hackman must have
seen the fight on the track and made a story of it. I suppose they
thought it was distinctly American--confound 'em! It's the only time in
my life that I've ever flagged a train, and I wouldn't have done it but
for that scarab. 'T wouldn't hurt their old trains to be held up once in
a while."

"Well, it's all over now," I said, choking a little. "And your name
didn't get into the papers. It is rather transatlantic when you come to
think of it."

"Over!" Wilton grunted savagely. "It's only just begun. That trouble
with the guard was just common, ordinary assault--merely a little
criminal business. The flagging of the train is civil, infernally
civil,--and means something quite different. They're after me for that
now."

"Who?"

"The Great Buchonian. There was a man in court watching the case on
behalf of the Company. I gave him my name in a quiet corner before
I bought my hat, and--come to dinner now; I'll show you the results
afterwards." The telling of his wrongs had worked Wilton Sargent into a
very fine temper, and I do not think that my conversation soothed him.