“That’s why I’ve taken an interest in you, kid. All you want is nerve—courage enough to go through with your part, and keep your mind and eyes on all that Dean Devlin does and says. You’ve got a job and I might as well warn you that how well you do it will determine your permanent employment by this company. In other words, it’s to be your entrance exam, so you better try to pass it!”
“Gee, will I pass it!” Skippy cried exultantly. “You’ll see how I’m gonna pass it, Mr. Conne!”
“That’s the talk, kid,” the detective said with a half-smile. “And when Dean Devlin is where he can’t take any more money from my clients or anybody else, I’ll talk to you about staying on for a regular job.”
CHAPTER IV
JOHN DOE
In the Juvenile Court next day, Skippy was duly arraigned and sentenced. An International Detective Agency man posing as an irate merchant pressed a charge of petty larceny against John Doe, orphan, no home and a native of the city of New York. The evening papers carried a small first page story on this original John Doe who was about to spend his first night of a four year sentence in the Delafield Reformatory.
Meanwhile, Skippy was aware that his role of John Doe, thief, had become almost too realistic to be comfortable. His morning wait in the courtroom had seemed interminable. The heat was oppressive, the court procedure tiresome and he felt not a little regret that he had not urged Mr. Conne to have his aunt come and give him the bit of encouragement he needed to go on with his part in the reformatory. He thought of his dead father, of Big Joe Tully who had lost his life saving the Airedale, Mugs, which he had given to Skippy. And Mugs too was gone, killed by an auto.
Not that he felt in the least fearful nor doubted his ability to go through with his strange role. He merely felt a little lonesome and wished that he might look out over the sea of faces that crowded the courtroom and see his Aunt Min’s among them, smiling her encouragement. But his aunt was at home busy with her sewing that morning, quite content with the money that Carlton Conne had turned over to her and satisfied that the great detective would see that her nephew was safe and sound.
Skippy had to be content with the presence of Dick Hallam, Carlton Conne’s man, notwithstanding the fact that he was supposed to be prosecuting him. Hallam, however, was better than no one at all for when the occasion permitted, he flashed a significant look at the boy.
He spent the afternoon in an ante room and Dick Hallam, blond, tall and about twenty-eight, played “rummy” with him. Also, he had too much to eat, including ice cream and candy and cold drinks and at about four o’clock Carlton Conne came in.
“All set, kid?” he asked with that half-smile that Skippy was beginning to like.