way to hell with and brought me down here, I've been
screwed tight as a board to the water-wagon!"

"I know it, Billy. I shouldn't for an instant----"

"And, Arn," interrupted Billy, putting his arm contritely across the
other's shoulder, "even though I do joke at you a little--simply can't
help it--you know how eternally grateful I am to you! You're giving me
the chance of my life to make a man of myself. People in this town
don't half appreciate you; they don't know you for what I know
you--the best fellow that ever happened!"

"There, there! Cut it out, cut it out!" said Bruce gruffly, gripping
the other's hand.

"That's always the way," said Billy, resentfully. "Your only fault is
that you are so infernally bull-headed that a fellow can't even thank
you."

"You're thanking me the right way when you keep yourself bolted fast
to the water-cart. What I started out to tell you, what I want you to
keep secret, is this: They put the wrong man in jail yesterday."

"What!" ejaculated Billy, springing up.

"I tell you this much because I want you to keep your eye on the
story. Hell's likely to break loose there any time, and I want you to
be ready to handle it in case I should have to be off the job."

"Good God, old man!" Billy stared at him. "What's behind all this? If
Doctor West's the wrong man, then who's the right one?"

"I can't tell you any more now."

"But how did you find this out?"

"I said I couldn't tell you any more."

A knowing look came slowly into Billy's face.

"H'm. So that was what Miss West called here about day before
yesterday."

"Get in there and write your story," said Bruce shortly, and again sat
down before his typewriter.

Billy stood rubbing his head dazedly for a long space, then he slowly
moved to the door. He opened it and paused.

"Oh, I say, Arn," he remarked in an innocent tone.

"Yes?"

"After all," he drawled, "it would make an interesting dramatic
situation, wouldn't it?"

Bruce whirled about and threw a statesman's year book, but young
Harper was already on the safe side of the door; and the incorrigible
Billy was saved from any further acts of reprisal being attempted
upon his person by the ringing of Bruce's telephone.

Bruce picked up the instrument.

"Hello. Who's this?" he demanded.

"Mr. Peck," was the answer.

"What! You don't mean 'Blind Charlie'?"

"Yes. I called up to see if you could come over to the hotel for a
little talk about politics."