"Oh, you are, eh? Well, what's up?"
"One of the pleecemen 'round City Hall arrested a feller this mornin' what had jest walked down from Saranac; an' it's all wrong, I tell you,—all wrong."
"He's a friend of yours, I suppose?"
"Well, you can't exactly call him that. I never spoke to him till jest before this thing happened. I want ter git him right out, on 'portant business."
"I'm afraid you will have to wait a little while, and explain the whole affair to the judge in the morning. I haven't any authority to do a thing like that."
"Couldn't you fix it with the judge?"
"No, indeed," the officer replied, laughingly. "The best way is for you to go to the court yourself, and explain how it happened, unless he is really guilty, in which case I suppose he will have to go to the Island. I fancy a week up there wouldn't do him any harm."
"But, you see, it was jest this way"—and Carrots assumed an attitude such as one takes when about to begin a long story.
"Never mind it now. I can't stop to listen; and, besides, it wouldn't do any good."
Carrots looked up as if surprised that an old friend should assume a dictatorial tone, and then, suddenly remembering that he had another favour to ask, added: