“Well, Jake?” he said.
“Everything’s went fine, boss,” replied Hines, with a grin, seating himself beside the desk. “Your scheme worked like a clock from start to finish. Sheridan was pinched at half past twelve, and is in the jug at this minute.”
Boss Coggswell’s face lighted up. “Good!” he said. “That is, I mean to say: What a pity that one so young should turn out to be such a bad egg! To think of a nice-looking, clean-cut young fellow like that having to go to jail almost makes me weep, Jake—almost makes me weep.”
There wasn’t a ghost of a smile upon the district leader’s face as he uttered these words. On the contrary, his expression was so sad, so virtuous, that Hines might have believed that his master actually meant what he said if he hadn’t known what he did, and if he hadn’t noticed that all the time the boss was talking his ears were wiggling rapidly—a sure sign that Old Nick was at work inside that cunning brain.
“Let this be a lesson to you, Jake,” Coggswell went on. “Let this be a warning to you, my boy—for you, too, are very young—never to do anything dishonest.”
“Or never get gay with Boss Coggswell,” chuckled Hines, looking at his chief admiringly. “You’re a wonder!”
“And how does the young man take it?” inquired Coggswell, after a long pause.
“Very calmly so far,” replied Hines. “He can’t believe that he’s in any danger of being sent away. Says it’s a frame-up, and that he won’t have any trouble in proving his innocence.”
“Poor, misguided youth!” murmured the boss.
“He’s got ex-Judge Lawrence to defend him,” Hines went on. “As soon as the judge heard that he was under arrest, he went to police headquarters and offered to take the case for nothing.”