"I'd like to send for somebody," he said, "and will pay liberally for a messenger. You've got my money, and therefore know that I can pay any decent charge."
"Yes," said the sergeant, "you're well heeled. Who do you want to see?"
Frank thereupon gave the name of a Supreme Court judge. The sergeant's eyes opened wide.
"What do you want of him?" he asked.
"He'll come down here in a hurry," Frank answered, "if he knows that I'm locked up."
The sergeant sat back in his chair and thought a moment. It was perfectly plain to him that Frank was not intoxicated, and his whole manner was that of a gentleman.
The sergeant was probably wondering whether the name Merriwell might not be a false one, and whether this prisoner might not be the son of the judge mentioned.
While he was wondering what he had better do about it, a young man entered the station with a businesslike air, and stepping up to the big desk, said:
"Good-evening, sergeant, anything going on?"
Then he caught sight of Merriwell, and exclaimed: