“Of course I wouldn’t, and when my brother hears of this outrage he’ll raise a big fuss over it.  He’s a lawyer and knows how to do it.”

Rex didn’t feel a bit humorous when he made this assertion, but there was something in it that struck the crowd as very funny.  A good many laughed, and the policeman tried to repress a smile.

“Where is this brother of yours?”

“Right here in the city,” and Rex gave the address.

“That’s not far,” said the officer.  “We’ll go round there and see if you have told us a straight story.  Come along, John,” he added to the laundry-man.

Rex glowed with a sense of triumph for a minute, and then began to reflect on what Syd would say at seeing him appear in such company—­ with a police officer and a Chinaman.  And there was the crowd that strung on behind as the three moved off!

“I wish I’d stayed at home,” groaned poor Rex to himself.

However, he tried to take some comfort from the fact that the policeman’s arm was not on his shoulder.  People they passed might think it was the Chinaman who was under arrest.  Then he felt that he ought to be glad that it was midsummer, with no chance of his meeting any of his friends.

He was trying to decide what he should do in case Syd had not come back by the time they reached the office, when just as they turned into Chestnut Street a familiar voice cried out: 

“Hello, 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 passing would suddenly give way and precipitate him under the sidewalk in theatrical trap door fashion.  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 fashion.