"My friend," said Morris, "you can't fool an experienced officer by any such rigmarole. He can read you like a book."
"Of course I can," said the policeman, who felt the more flattered by this tribute because he was really a novice. "As this gentleman says, I knew you to be a crook the moment I set eyes on you."
They turned the corner of Thirtieth Street on their way to the station house. Poor Joshua felt keenly the humiliation and disgrace of his position. It would be in all the papers, he had no doubt, for all such items got into the home papers, and he would not dare show his face in Barton again.
"Am I going to jail?" he asked with keen anguish.
"You'll land there shortly," said Morris.
"But I hain't done a thing."
"Is it necessary for me to go in?" asked Ferdinand Morris, with considerable uneasiness, for he feared to be recognized by some older member of the force.
"Certainly." replied the policeman, "you must enter a complaint against this man."
Morris peered into the station house, but saw no officer likely to remember him, so he summoned up all his audacity and followed the policeman and his prisoner inside. There happened to be no other case ahead, so Joshua was brought forward.
"What has this man done?" asked the sergeant.